


you will never get it, that's okay.

by atlaslov



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Borderline Personality Disorder, Eating Disorders, Gen, Self-Harm, attemps, basically everything that goes along with that, but only mentioned and in the past, suicidal thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 08:34:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11158170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlaslov/pseuds/atlaslov
Summary: Evan and Connor meet when Evan 'falls' from a tree and Connor happens to be there, emergency rooms ensue.(so it's still gonna be more about thoughts and mental illnesses and how it affects the way they interact with people/their environment but it turned into a story I guess?)





	1. making a sound doesn't mean you'll be heard

**Author's Note:**

> -(spoiler) Evan doesn't die dw friends 
> 
> -also thank you so much for taking the time to read this!! 
> 
> -this is going to be more about thought and dealing with mental illnesses than plot (like, there's still plot sort of) or romance. (I'm aro(?)ace as heck my dudes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> that Sad Part with Evan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I reread this and edit this constantly so apologies if it spams the the recent works in the tags.

The highest reachable limb was maybe twenty five feet off the ground. Looking outward towards the quiet meadow was peaceful. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, softening the edges of all the plants and placing a subtle yellow haze over his field of view. 

Looking down was decidedly less peaceful. 

Upon doing so Evan feels his stomach drop and burn with anxiety, primal survival instincts kicking in and unconsciously finding a will to live again. For a few moments. 

He's perched on the branch, close to the center and hand still on the trunk to stabilize himself. His head starts to spin the longer he looks down, and he suddenly feels like gravity will pull him from the branch before he willingly greets the force. 

He looks out toward the scenery again and feels a little bittersweet, trees and nature is the one thing he's disappointed to leave behind, and it's almost enough to have his doubt spring to life again. 

Almost, but it doesn't. He's firmly set on going through with it. Not because he had planned it, to be honest it was actually a last minute impulse that set him climbing the tree like a squirrel running from a dog. He even sat quietly high above the ground pretending he hadn't ever thought _that though_ and pretending he was just enjoying the view. 

He doesn't have a note, won't have anything to explain himself with. When they find his body it would most likely be assumed an accident so it wouldn't matter anyway. 

It's not like he didn't have reasons. Of course he does, but they don't really matter. They didn't matter to anyone last week or last year and they won't matter to anyone when he's dead either. 

He climbs carefully towards the edge of the branch, feeling it get thinner and have more difficulty holding his weight. His stomach knots and flips over as he wobbles slightly. If he goes any further the branch is likely to break and he doesn't want that because he wants to be the one in control. He wants to know when it's coming, to expect it, not to have a sudden event rob him of controlling his own fate. 

He can't have anything else in this goddamn world so this is what he's taking. He's the only one who can make decisions for himself and he's decided this is what he wants. 

Evan reaches up and grabs a branch that looks like it can bear his weight for more that a few seconds. He slowly lifts his legs to wrap around the same branch his hands are holding. He figures falling back or headfirst has the highest probability of death.

Fingers crossed he dies fairly quickly, rather than live a few hours in agonizing pain and then chancing the fact that someone might actually find him and he'd live. 

If he lived he'd probably have a few days of heightened attention from people and then be forgotten again. Left to fade quietly into the background, because that's what he does. He doesn't matter. Doesn't matter enough to warrant a second glance, even in tragedy or sickness. 

His stomach calms suddenly and he's numb to any feeling, he's disconnected but he's never felt more sure of himself in his life. 

He lets go. 

-  
The worst part about the fall is that he knew immediately something was wrong. It felt like the world slowed down and all he could feel was a soft flow of air as it parted around his falling body. He saw the sun glowing through the leaves and the silhouettes of crooked spider legs from branches crawling across the canopy. 

He wanted to remember how beautiful it looked because knew it would over soon and time would return to normal and everything would literally be crashing down. 

Time sped back up as he smacked into a lower branch, and suddenly everything was moving way too fast. His lungs expelled air and his ribs ached. There's a blur of green and yellow and brown and white when one of his shoes flies off. 

His course had changed slightly when he hit the branch and he falls arm first in the dirt and grass around the base of the tree. 

Of course this would happen. Of course he would be unlucky enough to live and be forced to deal with the consequences, because that's what he does. He always draws the short straw and ends up worse off than before. 

People would call him lucky though, to survive a fall with only minor injuries. A broken arm and some cracked ribs (he presumes). It's lucky you hit that branch, it's lucky you weren't up higher, it's lucky the earth below was spongy from the late summer heat. You're lucky. 

He's not. He feels like he hit rock bottom and now he's found a shovel to dig deeper. _How_ could his life get worse? How could the universe continue to toy with him like this? _Can't he just be done?_

Guess giving up on life made death give up on him. 

Not even the the void wanted him. The eternal nothingness that is literally inevitable to every human hadn't even let him through the doors before he was spat back out onto the earth. 

Rolling off his arm and onto his back, he looks up through the tree again, less peaceful and amazed, more angry and upset. How could one of the only things he found solace in _betray_ him like this? 

He wonders how long he's been laying there. 

He's technically still on the job, and his his boss should have called to check in a half an hour ago and come pick him up. He hadn't called, and certainly hadn't come looking for him. _Yet._

Evan clenches his jaw in an attempt to stop his mouth from curling into a sob. 

No one had come looking for him, and no one would. He expected it would be like that, even though he had hoped, actually _hoped_ , that he would be proven wrong. 

But he's not. He's lying quietly on the ground, still waiting for faint footsteps in the grass to come find him. 

No one was going to look for him. He may as well have not even fallen. 

What would it take for someone to hear him, to find him and help him up, to tell him it's okay? 

He realizes, he would have to matter.


	2. but sometimes it does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finds Evan in the forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -y'all I love Connor Murphy. Or I love the idea of him. 
> 
> -he's based a lot off me, the bpd (who's has been prof. dx-ed.) and the intrusive thoughts and paranoia and dissociation godddd. The anger isn't really my thing though but I'm gonna try for the sake of keeping him in character 
> 
> -I'm also not really a stoner either lol 420 blaze that's what the kids say
> 
> -anyway
> 
> -when it's starts with a "-" that's an intrusive thought
> 
> \- oh also I wasn't planning on this being chronological but more like one shots in the same universe but this ran away from me 
> 
> \- but yh sometimes it might be like that but I'll say it if it a 'time jump' or whatever.

Connor saw something move to his left out of the corner of his eye and immediately thought: _this is it the government sent someone to find me they're gonna kill me._

He was able to discredit it instantly, but it was replaced with another thought: _it's just someone walking by and thinking how much of a freak you are._

Five minutes. Just five minutes without his own brain trying to convince him he was evil or being watched or about to die or any other number of things that made him wildly misjudge people's expressions and words and latch on and burst out with the the first emotion he felt. 

_-You have borderline personality disorder. That’s kind of standard._

A calm moment in his brain was very _very_ rare. A moment where he could focus was also very _very_ rare. 

That was why he had few friends. Why he had terrible grades. He would space out of his environment ("dissociation" his therapist said, because it was more intense than most people’s zoning out). He would check corners of rooms for cameras, even knowing that the government wouldn't choose him of all people to spy on. He'd get happy or pissy or angry or suicidal at the drop of a hat to the point where that emotion was the only thing on his mind and he would argue and argue and argue with himself about it until-

A noise to his left snapped his attention back to the present. 

Was that- Evan Hansen?

It looked like the noise was caused by him tripping over a branch and falling face first into the sideways growing twigs of a fallen branch. 

He was currently attempting to untangle himself but only using his right arm, and he kept falling back in or getting whacked by branches that were pulled too far in one direction. 

Connor would have thought it was little funny if he didn't feel so bad for him. He walked over to the tree limb, boots crunching over pebbles and dead grass from no sunlight exposure, and tried to make his presence known as to not scare him. 

"You're Evan Hansen, right?" He asked, crouching down in an attempt to appear nonthreatening. Kind of like you would do for a scared animal- but it worked with humans too, especially with anxiety. He knew. 

However, this time, the 'not scaring him' thing didn't work. Evan still jolted and inhaled sharply, instinctually trying to find the source of the voice.

He finally saw it was Connor, and calmed a bit, but not before letting out a strong "ow," as he landed on his left arm. 

"Can I help you up? Is that okay?" 

Evan nodded and Connor braced him and started breaking some of the dry twigs entwined in his polo, releasing the tension and gently helping him up. 

And yeah, maybe it was a little weird. Connor remembers him from elementary school, and a few classes in high school, and they had probably said like, less words to each other than you could count on two hands. Barely even looked at one another to be completely honest.

And yet, here he was helping Evan out of this weirdly specific situation he'd _never_ imagined his entire life events and circumstances would literally all lead up to this moment. He took a second to think: _what the fuck universe?_

He didn't mind though, honestly, he wasn't necessarily "in the mood" to interact with anyone, that's why he was out here in the first place, but he hated seeing people hurting. 

He was an asshole, yeah, but not _that_ big of an asshole.

Connor sat Evan down on the larger trunk of the offending branch, knelt down again, and started asking Evan questions. He knew anxiety would probably play a big part in how he would answer, so he tried to word very carefully. 

"I'm sorry if this sounds like an interrogation, but I promise you can't answer 'wrong.'" He did air quotes to emphasize the ridiculous nature of a wrong answer in this situation. 

"Okay." 

_He speaks!_

"Right. I'll try and get this over as quickly as possible because I know you're hurt and need to go somewhere for help." He began talking very rapidly. "Can you tell me where exactly it hurts?" 

"Um, my arm. My chest. On the left. My hip. Um, that's why I tripped, when I- fell. I fell on, on my left." 

"Okay. Thank you." He had no idea what injuries came from where, the way he phrased it made it sound like his hip was injured and he fell and hurt his arm and ribs, but he didn't want to stress Evan out and in all honestly it didn't really matter right now. 

"Can I drive you a hospital? Or would you rather call someone and go with a person you know better?" 

Connor mentally kicked himself for posing such a social decision. He hated it when people did that to him when his anxiety was high. Evan shocked him though, answering fairly quickly _and_ the way he didn't expect. 

"Yeah, you can- its fine, if it's okay with you. I don't want to inconvenience you or anything but my arm hurts really- is in a lot a pain right now." 

"Okay, yes, sorry, we can go now." 

Connor helped Evan stand up and steady himself before speaking again abruptly. 

"Wait where the heck's your shoe?" 

"Oh." 

Connor gave him a strange look. 

"Sorry I mean, I don't know, I mean, I saw it when- when- I saw it but I don't know where it is now. Can we go?" 

Weird. 

Connor wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Evan's non-injured arm around his shoulder and started walking immediately. This whole situation was something he obviously didn't want to talk about. 

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I just didn't know if you wanted it." 

_________________ 

The drive to the hospital was unfortunately long because of the extension of being a bit into the country. It took about 6 or 9 songs (he skipped some halfway through) from parking lot to parking lot. Connor had no concept of time, and he figured a lot of people who had CDs in their car measured distance and time by songs. 

Listening to a mixtape Connor made, occasionally Evan would stutter out a barely audible "what's this song?" and Connor would fill with pride and tell him because _of course, I have awesome music taste._

The only time that was uncomfortable was when the song 'Do You Feel It' by Chaos Chaos came on and Connor ticked it over immediately because that song was from one of his favorite shows when a character tries to commit suicide and he wasn't really in a place to listen to it right then. 

Sometimes a bump in the road would cause Evan to wince and instinctively protect his arm with his other hand and Connor was amazed at how well he was concealing the pain of a literal broken arm. _A broken arm._

Bone, _not connected to to the other half._ And he was silent and holding normal conversation. Well, he kind of repeated himself and didn't seem sure of anything he said but it seemed like his normal so yeah, normal conversation. 

They got to hospital and Connor parked in the last available emergency spot and slid the car into park. 

"Well. Thanks, thank you." 

He looked nervous. 

"Would you feel better if I came in with you?" 

"I- no, that's, you don't have to." He paused. "Well, I would but I don't want to be an-" 

"Inconvenience? I promise you're not. I wouldn't ask if I couldn't or didn't want to. It's totally fine." He made eye contact (for as long as Evan would) to reassure that he was being truthful. 

"Oh. I- thank you." He looked away In embarrassment and moved his hand slowly to the door handle and pulled. 

Connor noticed and tried to get to the locks in time but he didn't and the handle just pulled weakly out and the door did nothing and he saw Evan's ears turn red and he slid down in his seat unnoticeably to probably anyone else. 

He unlocked the doors and loudly opened the driver's side and pretended not to notice as he leaned back in to grab his keys wallet and a large bag from the back. 

Evan was standing by the closed door on his side and they walked to door together, Connor offering to brace Evan again, but he refused, presumably because there were too many people around and it would exacerbate his anxiety. 

The ER was typical, a busy hellscape where people looked bored and pissed off, the man at the desk looked bored and annoyed, and everyone looked like they'd been there for hours. 

They walked up to the desk and Evan basically shut down when desk-guy continued acting irritated. His stutter/repeating became much worse and he could barely form sentences and that just made the guy even more annoyed. 

Connor took the reins and explained what he could, letting Evan give the things like date of birth and all that. 

Desk-guy finally slapped a hospital band on him and told him to go wait in an empty seat. 

By that time, Connor was pissed. He was trying so hard not to let it out. He knew it would probably make Evan's anxiety worse but god _damn_ it, he was pissed off. 

Connor reached into his big bag and pulled out his crochet hook and current unfinished project, continuing furiously in an effort to calm himself. That was one of his coping skills that (usually) worked pretty well. 

That guy at the desk was fucking- he was being so _horrible_ to someone who so obviously stressed out and what kind of person acted like that in a _goddamn emergency room_ when some patients may be suicidal or having a panic attack or _panicking because of some other injury and he was so fucking pissed off._

The guy acted so unimpressed when Evan told him he his arm was broken ("I think" he had said. Evan was too passive for his own good) and just _fucking_ sent him to sit with everyone else because Evan was so good at hiding his pain and was unsure of himself the guy thought he was lying and the because it wasn't a compound fracture and he couldn't see it Evan was _definitely lying and Connor was GODDAMN PISSED OFF._

He took a deep breath and noticed his recent stitches were too tight. He pulled them out and started again. A small voice pulled his attention upwards. He was starting to feel fuzzy and stared a bit blankly past Evan. 

"Are you upset with me?" 

Connors expression softened immediately. 

"God, no. I'm-" he ran his hand through his hair, crochet hook getting stuck for moment before following through. It wasn't noticeable but it was enough to make his irritation bristle again. He continued. 

"Not with you, absolutely not. I'm-" he leaned in and whispered to Evan, "I'm pissed at the guy at the desk." 

Evan raised his eyebrows in understanding. He noticed it too then. 

Connor was slumped in his seat and leaned towards Evan so he could talk quietly without looking conspicuous. 

I'm just pissed he's being such a bitch to everyone." This earned him a smirk and a silent giggle from Evan. "And honestly? He such a dick for noticing your anxiety and then not giving a shit." 

"You- you noticed I was anxious?" 

"Dude, seriously? You have some pretty noticeable tells, not to mention I'm kinda tuned to that stuff anyway." 

"Tuned to that stuff?" 

"Yeah, I uh, I have some pretty bad anxiety like, all the time too." 

"I'm so sorry I wouldn't have asked you to do all this this was so much oh my gosh you had to talk to so many people and there was so many new situations and-" 

"Hey hey, it's totally fine, it's pretty well managed with meds now, and anyway my anxiety has this cool loophole where I develop the ability to not have anxiety when someone needs something." 

Connor noticed his anger was dissipating some, he was still irritated that they'd have to probably wait hours on end for anyone to take care of Evan because of the guy at the desk. 

_Stop._

__

__

_Thinking about it only makes it worse. You were feeling better._

"How long have you-" 

"Do you want any-" 

They both started at the same time and stopped, expecting the other to continue. 

"You can-" 

"Keep go-" 

They started again. Connor started laughing quietly. He caught Evan trying to suppress a grin, knowing it felt a little inappropriate in a room full of people in pain. 

Connor looked up and lightly put a hand on Evan's shoulder, indicating he was going to speak. 

"Okay, normally I'd let you go first, but I wanted to ask you if you wanted any pain medication or something?" 

His expression fell a bit as he responded 

"I, well, I don't want to like, I don't want to take anything that's like, _illegal_ ," he whispered 'illegal' significantly quieter than everything else, "or like, not prescribed or whatever, and- and I just wouldn't be-" 

Connor almost started laughing but he knew Evan was legitimately concerned. "Relax, I just meant ibuprofen. I always keep some in my car." 

"Oh." 

He could see Evan turn red again, embarrassed about the insinuations his previous statement implied. 

"Don't worry, I'm not offended, I know what people think, and a lot of rumors are true, some aren’t but like, I didn't tell you this but I was definitely in that orchard to smoke pot." 

"Oh." He said simply. 

_IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT you just made him UNCOMFORTABLE he's not LIKE THAT you've ALIENATED HIM_

Evan's face twitches into a soft smile like he knew what Connor was thinking and said "don't worry, I'm not uncomfortable." And smirked, fucking _smirked._ "I will take some of that ibuprofen though, yeah." 

It seemed a pulse of pain gripped him suddenly as he finished his statement. 

__________________

"I brought you like, six, I have the bottle too though, I don't know how much it'll help. And here's some water. It's been in my car for like a week, so it might taste weird, you might want to just drink out of a water fountain or something." 

"Sheesh you sound like me." 

Connor's mouth dropped open. 

"Was that- I'm sorry, I just thought-" 

Connor grinned and shook his head, why had they never talked before now? Evan was endearing and surprisingly comfortable to talk to despite both of their anxieties. 

"No I thought it was funny I was just so shocked you actually made a joke." 

He handed over the the water and pills and sat down again as Evan took them. 

Connor had gotten pretty good at crocheting while talking or doing other things. He _was_ paying attention, although sometimes people thought he was rude because he didn't look at them while they spoke, but it was really because he just had to make sure he put his hook in the right stitch. Apparently he didn't glance up enough. 

He brushed yarn fibers off his ripped black jeans, and adjusted his work so the current stitches were centered and continued. The only thing he didn't like about his mix of wardrobe and niche hobby: everything was noticeable on black. 

He'd worked about six rows since they'd been there. 

"Oh. I was going to ask before, when did you- that's... crocheting right? How did you, learn? Yeah, how did you learn?" 

Connor kept working as he talked. In a weirdly pretentious way he loved talking about it because it was kind of a lost art and nobody his age really did stuff like that anymore. He used to be really embarrassed to whip it out in public but now he didn't give a shit. Coping is coping. It relieved his anxiety. 

"My grandma taught me when I was like nine, but all I could do was a chain. That's the base that most works start with." He smiled fondly at the memory of his variegated pink chain weaving through the living room and down the hall and into the sewing room and into the kitchen and his grandmother looking on proudly. 

"That's so adorable." 

"Connor laughed. "Yeah dude, it looked so shitty but my grandma was super excited." 

Evan's face morphed into the look when people say 'aw' really drawn out, but without the audible word. Connor continued. 

"Then when I was fourteen my sister taught me how to double crochet a blanket. A double crochet is-" Connor fished in his bag and pulled out a small rectangle of what Evan could only assume was a 'double crochet', "this." 

"Basically all the stitches depend on how many times you loop the yarn around your hook." That was a gross oversimplification but Evan had no clue so there wasn't really any use in explaining anyway. 

"I made tons of little blankets but had nothing to do with them so my grandma said I should donate them to humane society. Apparently they use smaller ones for their cats and dogs and my grandma had been doing it for years. I had no idea, I'd never been." 

Evan made the 'aw' face again. 

"I kinda stopped after a while because I got bored of making the same things, but then about um, a year ago I started teaching myself new stitches and patterns as a way to help like, channel and relieve anxiety." 

Evan smiled widely. "That's... amazing." 

"How eloquent." 

"Shut up. I'm just- amazed." 

Connor tried, and failed, to deadpan, "yeah, you've mentioned." 

"Whatever. You know what I mean, I'm just... not- I'm not very good at expressing that kind of thing because I over analyze everything I say and over explain myself and end up sounding annoying and never know the right words-" 

"Connor held up a hand to stop him. "It's not a big deal, i know what you mean. I was teasing you, you dork." 

He gave a reassuring smile and went back to crocheting. 

After a few minutes he became restless. He checked his phone for the time. It had been a little under two hours since they got there. He gave a loud huff and sank further in his seat, chin resting firmly on his chest now. 

"What is it?" 

"We've been here for like, two hours." He sat up straight and pulled his feet onto the chair, leaning his head on the wall behind them, listening idly to whatever weird soap opera was on the waiting room tv. 

He turned his attention to Evan. "How are you feeling? You've been like ridiculously stoic about your pain the whole time. I swear I'd have been crying like an infant for hours by now." 

"Well, I mean, the pain pills seem to be helping. A little. Not a whole lot. Talking takes, my mind off it. Um, yeah. Arm still hurts. Like a fucking ton, of course. Hip's not so bad. Ribs kind of make the whole breathing thing annoying. I don't know." 

The sudden curse-word threw him off a bit but Connor tried to not let it show and be weird about it. It just caught him off guard. 

"I wish there was some way they would call us back sooner." 

_Us. Wow that was a quick attachment._

_Oh god he was attached he can't let himself get attached Evan was only talking to him because he was anxious and having someone there helped he knows he'd probably never talk to him again because he was weird kid who crochets and oh god he'd said too much and overshared and has been too forthcoming and overstepped boundaries and oh GOD what has he done._

_-you do have point there. People don't like you unless they can use you._

_Evan isn't like that. He knows what it's like to be used and walked over._

_-maybe. It's still weird how much you've told him._

_Shut up I know_

_-the first time you've ever talked to him! What do you know about him? You've been so selfish too! So self absorbed. Only talking about yourself. What about him? You never think about other people. <\i>_

"It's okay, I like talking to you, I just wish it didn't have to be- wasn't under these circumstances." 

Connor's head was reeling, he was starting to feel a depressive mood swing come on and he was trying so hard to deal with it but it was causing him zone out (dissociate) and he didn't want to do that right now because he didn't want Evan to think he was rude and god, why now? He felt so _normal_ a minute ago. 

_Damn his brain and damn himself._

"Yeah dude, I don't know why we never talked to each other sooner." 

_Why am I like this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -kudos for soft Connor taking care of nervous Evan I love them. 
> 
> -the cd is a real thing and it's fire so if y'all want some sweet tracks I can add them in the notes. 
> 
> -love anyone who reads this far
> 
> * (ps. Updated for a weird format fix and tried to catch some typos but I did all that on sleeping meds so shrug)


	3. what's behind door number three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some of Connor's 'lovely' self destructive thought processes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -this can be read at p much anywhere in the 'timeline'
> 
> -Connor isn't having a full blown conversation with himself as the writing would suggest, it's just how I write out our those lovely little back and forth contradictory thinkdumps that happen real fast. 
> 
> -yes I know, adding another thing to hurt my son, but like I said, he based off me quite a lot, and I also have these issues because I'm dramatic and still can't convince myself I have legitimate problems (that's where this comes in)
> 
> -yes im projecting
> 
> -some things are exaggerated, or added but rarely. (Usually none of the thinking process tho)
> 
> -like the whole scene in the forest with my boys never happened to me but like, that's probably how I would act in a similar situation.
> 
> -//there's some pretty intense negative thinking like suicide and stuff in this one
> 
> -anyway, luv the like, 91 of y'all who have read this.

- _I have a great idea_

_what is it now._

- _you know how you always want attention right? And you're not opposed to self destructive ways of getting there?_

_great. I'm listening._

- _Well! I have a few choices. Number one: slit those wrists wide open._

Yikes. 

_done that, it’s too gory, haven't done it or wanted to for years. So no, I don’t even want to._

- _that's a blatant lie if I ever saw one._

_okay, true, but, I really haven't cut for years and I'm still not going to because I'm competitive and want to see how long I can go without relapsing._

- _anyway, number two: death._

_why is death number two? Besides, I’ve tried that too, parents were pissed, Zoe didn't talk to me for like a week, and no one from school even knew. They just thought I got sick._

- _you got attention._

_eh, hardly. It was also negative attention._

- _still attention_

_okay, but I'm not doing that yet so back off_

- _fine. Number three: we bring back your eating disorder._

Connor had no real argument against this one. This was one thing that had never ever been properly addressed even in therapy and all the different treatments he'd been through. His logical brain couldn't fight the intrusive part that told him not to eat. 

It was like as soon as his depression eased up even minutely, his eating disorder reared its ugly head to take top spot in his self destruction.

So it wouldn’t be like he was ‘bringing it back’ if it never really went away in the first place.

- _I just figured, since we want to die sometime just not right now, starving to death slowly would be a great alternative. Plus you'd get a ton of attention, and look so ~edgy~ while you die. I mean, you're basically the poster child emo kid. Had every teen angst problem under the sun but never grew out of it._

He was just trying to draw goddam it. All this thinking while he was 'coping' or whatever he had learned in outpatient. He was literally about to fight his own brain about how romanticizing illnesses is awful. 

_So I can look 'edgy' while I die? Why the hell would I think that._ He didn't fucking want to have these problems and have to deal with himself and constantly think about everything and be medicated all the time, he hated it, _hated it_ , hated himself for having it (which was part of the problem), and he absolutely did not want to have to deal with this _every single day for the rest of his life._

- _you say shit like that and then refuse to off yourself like you want to. What sense in there is that?_

_the longer I live, the more tragic my 'story' is._

Stop. 

Stopstopstopstopstop. 

He's throwing his therapy in the grabage, apparently. The logical part, the part he's worked so hard to train with the therapy is breaking back down. It's starting to sound like the negative part. Oh god oh god his parents aren't going to want to send him to therapy again-

Breathe in. Breathe out. Redraw that curve. 

_It's only one time. An isolated incident. It happens. It doesn't mean you've fallen back into pre-treatment Connor. Everything will be okay._

_everything will be okay._

From down the stairs he hears his mother calling. "Connor, there's taco hot-dish on the counter if you want any!"

They never really ate dinner 'together' anymore. They ate at the same time just in different places or in front of the tv. 

Picture perfect rich family, right? 

"Thanks mom! I'll be down later!" 

He wouldn't be down later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -last chapter I tried to end like three times and it ended up being like 3k and this one is probably barely 600
> 
> -I also have not been having writers block??????
> 
> -and I always post things as I finish them
> 
> -ps, luv u


	4. outside the bullshit, out of body, out of rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more hospital waiting rooms.
> 
> takes place directly after 'chapter' 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I love Mike faist
> 
> -I swear I didn't intend for this to be in such chronological order but it keeps happening. Not that it's a bad thing, I just didn't want to stop writing bc I couldn't figure out 'what to do next'.
> 
> -also I'm literally about to paint my nails black and not care when it chips bc of Connor that is a #look
> 
> -yo this contains a teeny bit of transphobia in the form of misgendering. 
> 
> -although Connor in this particular fic is not trans, but also not specified for the purpose anyone who wants to relate/headcannon him as trans can absolutely do so!!
> 
> -100+ hits boiiiiiii. again, luv y'all
> 
> *edit: I'm so sorry oh my gosh, after I posted this I wrote another thing that was too short to post on it's own so I added it here because I can’t control myself

Hospital emergency waiting rooms were honestly one the worst hells to be damned to. A nurse would call out a name, people would arrive, occasionally someone would get pissed enough to leave, their medical emergency not being severe enough to wait _that_ long. 

A few more minutes passed when suddenly Evan started wringing his hands and stated he needed to immediately make a phone call. He walked over to a hallway and found a little crevice where no one would overhear. Connor could still see him but the walls would absorb the sound of his voice before reaching the waiting room. 

He'd give him that, awkward and with one shoe on, but he was smart. Connor wouldn't be able to be nosy this time. Instead he took the opportunity to ask the desk-guy what the _fuck_ was taking so long. 

Listen, he got it, he knew the people were just doing their jobs and emergency rooms were hell for the employees too, but he was still irritated the guy had to be a dick about it. 

He quietly got the man's attention through the plexiglass and smiled lightly to be polite. 

The guy gave him that same half-bored half-annoyed look and moved his fingers away from the keyboard, smiling quite obviously fake, not at all with his eyes. 

_you have to smize! smile with your eyes, honey!_

Tyra Banks' voice came from the back of his mind, dredged up from the depths of America's Next Top Model episodes and trash daytime reality tv shows.

_oh my god can I stop being gay for one second?_

The guy's expression portrayed his utter disdain for interacting with anyone who decided they had the gall to ask a question. 

Connor clenched his teeth and released. 

"Hi, I was just wondering if you had any idea what time we would be called back? The name would be Evan Hansen."

"All our nurses are busy, we're doing the best we can." 

Didn't break eye contact didn't glance at his computer, at the other patients or at any of the other papers on the desk. 

Okay, fine, so he already knew they were busy. 

Connor finally payed attention to the guy's name tag and found out it was Hank. The irritation was mounting and he was trying _so hard_ not to have an outburst right now. 

"Okay, thank you." He continued, trying to aim for polite. "It's just, my friend has a broken arm," he emphasized those words, "and we've been here for two hours and he's still in a lot of pain."

A disbelieving scowl crossed the guy's face before he responded. 

"I'm afraid there isn't any thing we can do, he'll just have to wait like everyone else. We can't prioritize someone who may or may not have an arm fracture." He held up hands sand did the air quote motion while saying arm 'fracture.'

Connor had to mentally stop himself from trying punch through the plexiglass. He kept his voice steady, although unfortunately rising in decibel a bit. 

"Excuse me, 'may or may not.'" He enunciated the phrase incredulously. 

The guy kept a straight face but the minuscule muscles that allow humans to read faces differently even with the 'same' expression showed that he was holding back a look of glee. 

Okay what the _fuck_ was up with this guy and _why the fuck_ is working at a hospital? By all means, follow your passion, but you've got to think about the people you're affecting sometimes right?

"Well, since it's not compound- which means that the bone has broken through the skin-“ 

_relax your face don't let him get to you, he's being condescending on purpose_

"we won't be able to determine if it's actually broken until we take an x-ray." He said 'actually' so smug and Connor was _fightingfightingfighting_ to not let him win. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

"So there's nothing you can do?" 

"No ma'am- sorry I mean, no sir." He kept a straight face- made _goddamn eye contact_ , while deliberately misgendering him as a disapproving comment on his hair.

Connor clenched his teeth hard and smiled calmly.

"Don't worry about it, happens all the time," he shaded his eyes and squinted directly into the confused face of Hank. "Sorry, I guess the lights reflecting off your head are getting to me. Thank you anyway." 

Yeah yeah, it was low, but he probably would have done something worse had he not let it out in a little quip ad hominem. Appearance attacks hurt. Personal attacks hurt. They were petty but effective.

He didn't absolve himself of the responsibility for being mean, but he couldn't deal with that right now. 

When he walked away he sat next to Evan who had already returned from his phone call. He was still fuming and Evan spoke up. 

"What's going on?" 

"Before you ask I'm not upset with you, pinky promise." 

Connor was breathing deeply and shoving his yarn and crochet back in his bag aggressively. 

_WHY did I FUCKING bring this with me there's TOO MUCH going on TOO MUCH TOOMUCH the strings loops so many LOOPS stopstop stopstopstop breathe breathe_

_breathe in_

Connor turned to Evan and asked somewhat breathlessly "can you do something for me? Please?" 

Evan looked concerned and scared, he had no idea what was going on. Connors brain was yelling _bad decision bad decision bad decision_ at him. 

"I- of course. What is it?"

Connor breathed in deeply again and spoke in his exhale. 

"I need you to guide me through grounding. Five things I can touch, four things I can see," a breath, "three things I can hear, two I can smell, and one I can taste." 

Connor brought his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, tipping his head to the wall and closing his eyes.

_breathe Connor_

"I- I'll, I'll try. Um, Connor can you tell me out- out loud five things you can feel?" 

"I can feel, my socks between my feet and my shoes."

"That's one, can- can you tell me another?" 

"I feel my head pressed against the wall." 

"Okay, that's two, you're doing um, you're doing really well." 

Of course the nurse had to call them back at that moment. Of course. 

Connor was still livid and panicky but mostly panicky because he didn't want to be angry at anyone and he was worried something he did or said would make someone uncomfortable so he was trying to circumvent the problem by being self aware but that was causing him to panic more and he felt like he had a lot of pressure and expectations on him right now even though at the same time he knew that no one expected him to be doing all these things but none of his family knew where he was and it was a little late so they'd be mad and he had to get out. He had to get out. 

Get out get out get out

Connor reached his tremoring hand into his crochet bag as they walked slowly towards the nurse. He pulled out his hook, placed it into Evan's hand and spoke his next words like they were all a single word. 

"I promise I'm not leaving I just need to take a minute or I might flip a chair and punch somebody or claw my own eyes out okay I'm just going to go take a walk and I'm giving you the crochet hook my grandma used to teach me so it holds sentimental value and you know I'm coming back okay I promise." 

Evan's mouth was hanging open slightly, dumbfounded. He nodded. 

"Okay, go now, everything will be okay."

____________

Connor stomped out the doors and marched towards the conveniently placed grove of trees about fifty yards from the hospital. He probably scared an old lady being loaded into a med van or something but he couldn't find it in him to care right now. 

He dropped (threw) everything but his keys into his car on the way by and kicked the door shut. The momentum from the kick rocketed his body back into the car perked next to his and he slammed harshly into it, the wind getting knocked out of him. 

Huh, no dent on either car. He expected it for the other one, it looked much nicer than his old, broken, already dented car. Most of the dents were from other outbursts. 

He walked towards the woods and gave his car hood a final downward smack with his elbow, thrusting his whole body down for more momentum. No dent. Just a numb lower arm. 

Finally out of sight from prying eyes watching him beat the shit out of his car, he started to truly release his rage. 

He threw off his jacket exposing his pretty, light purple shirt, a stark contrast to the rage emanating from him. 

He roughly brought the side of his hand and whole forearm to a tree and hit it three, four, five, six, seven times, letting out a growl that morphed into an angry scream with the increasing hits. 

He pushed himself off that tree, his movement stopping abruptly when his back squarely hit the trunk of another. 

With the sounds of the city far enough away to be muffled, he heard his breath escape him, a desperate wheeze that made his ribcage shudder. 

Out of breath, Connor lifted slowly and threw a punch at yet another unsuspecting tree. His hand missed the alignment enough to not injure his wrist, but scraping the bark enough to tear up the back of his hand and knuckles something awful. 

He brought his hands up to his hair and lifted it on either side, letting out a fierce scream and dropping to the ground. Well, he intended it to be fierce, but it rolled into anguish and died out when he finally hit the ground. 

All was quiet, he could feel his chest still heaving and tightness around his heart, squeezing guilt into every extremity. 

Leaning back against a tree, he took a minute to let his systems return to an acceptable speed and then spoke quietly aloud. 

"I'm sorry for hitting you."

"I know I do it a lot, I hope you don't hold it against me. I hope your strong trunks soften the pain. Or that you don't feel my pain. Any of it." 

He laughed a little. 

"It's kind of a lot, I know."

He rested his head on the trunk and looked up at the canopy. The sky was mostly dark by now, but it was still light enough to see the leaves silhouetted against the purple sky. 

"Thanks for listening and being here for me. Thanks for not asking for anything in return."


	5. the phone call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the call Evan makes while our boy Connor gets pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -listen I'm sorry for being annoying and adding so soon 
> 
> -I should also update the tags bc that third chapter yikes
> 
> -I tried not to repeat too much of the last part so apologies if it seems a little weird 
> 
> -and I know it's silly to be excited over 200 hits but a while back I'd have never ever let a single person read anything I wrote let alone 200, but anyway, 
> 
> -smoochies and other platonic but equally as affectionate things to show my love

Although Evan was having a nice time talking to Connor, yeah, Connor Murphy, (that was weird, right?) he suddenly remembered about two hours into their wait that he should _probably_ call his boss. 

Walking over to a nearby hallway, that looked relatively unused at the moment, he unconsciously cradled his arm to his chest and tried to breathe through the pain. One thing it was good for was not letting him focus on his anxiety to make _that_ worse. 

Connor had even given him an extra jacket, one that was soft and smelled like vanilla _shut up_ to use as a makeshift sling so he didn't have to hold it it up the whole time. 

He found a little block of wall that was recessed, probably for one of those medical station things that nurses push around if a team had run by with a gurney while frantically working on a patient like you see in movies. Or it was just a weird design choice. Either way, it was a great place to not feel so out in the open where he could make his call privately. 

Upon looking at his phone he found no missed calls and one text from Jared. It was a meme. Which to be fair, would have been funny, if Evan had been in the mood to laugh. 

He found "boss man" in his contacts and called, putting the phone to his ear timidly, and trying to stay calm. He had _horrible_ phone anxiety when talking to or calling anyone but his mom. 

After one ring Evan heard the static filled click of him answering. 

"What's up?"

"Uh, yeah, hi, this is Evan." 

_um, um, um, uh,_

He mocked himself in his head. God, why couldn't he just talk like a normal person?

He heard a short, good natured laugh through the phone, "I've got you in my contacts. Anyway, did you need something?" 

_did he- did he need something? what does that mean?_

_he knew what it meant_

"I just- I just wanted to let you know that I had to go to- I had leave work early for an emergency today." 

"You-" he could hear a mortified inhale with a quiet 'shit' before he spoke again, "I totally forgot you were even working today. I feel so stupid."

 _I forgot you were even here_

"Tell you what, I'll pay you overtime. I can't believe I forgot." He sighed, "I'm really sorry, Evan."

"It's okay." 

Even though he really didn't feel okay. Today was _rough_ anyway, he didn't need more affirmation that he didn't even matter enough to be remembered by someone who was _legally paying him to be there._

He did sound truly remorseful though, and baffled as to how he could have missed something so big. Because it was kind of big deal, to be honest. 

"Thanks for being understanding Evan, I'll try and make it up to you somehow." 

"You don't have- okay. I guess I'll- I mean, I'll see you at work then."

"Yup, see you at work!"

They hung up, and Evan felt all the feelings rush back to him, threatening to send him tumbling off another (metaphorical) branch. 

He was so forgettable. He literally did not matter enough to be noticed when his job wasn't being completed. 

Maybe his mom had called his boss earlier this summer and asked him to give Evan a job and he didn't have a place for a mentally unstable kid so he just sent him to remote orchards and forests to look for diseases in trees or non-native species that may effect the growth of other trees or any other number of useless menial tasks just to get him out of his hair for a while. 

He honestly wouldn't be surprised. 

It would not even be close to the first time he'd been duped into thinking he was important, just for it to be revealed later, that the whole thing was a lie. Yes, it had happened more than once. 

Evan returned to his seat and saw that Connor was gone. 

_Guess he got tired of-_

But his bag was still there? He looked around and finally saw Connor at the check-in desk, having a conversation with that rude guy they were talking about before. 

There seemed to be tension but both appeared calm and outwardly polite. 

Then the desk-guy's face dropped in shock and Connor walked back to his choice of uncomfortable waiting room chair next to Evan. 

He temporarily forgot his own internal depression and looked on with confusion. Connor's steady walk back, the huff as he sat in his seat, his chest heaving- barely visible under his thick jacket; Evan didn't know what to do, something was obviously wrong.

"What's going on?"

"Before you ask I'm not upset with you, pinky promise." He snapped. 

Okay, whoa. 

Connor's breathing intensified and he began stuffing his crochet work back into the black bag he brought in. Evan could tell he was attempting to stay relatively quiet and unnoticed for the sake of the people in the room. 

He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what was going on, he didn't- 

"Can you do something for me? Please?"

_guide him through a grounding technique? How- he wasn't even- he couldn't do that!_

_He was going to have to do that._

He wanted to help because Connor had done so much for him already, but his anxiety was telling him he was going to do something wrong and make it worse. 

Lo and behold, the nurse interrupted and when Connor stood, Evan could see how much he was physically shaking. His whole body looked like it was slightly phased into another dimension or something because of how much his body was trembling.

Evan still felt guilty even though it wasn't really his fault. He felt even more guilty when Connor gave him his crochet hook to prove he wasn't leaving for good. 

Was it really that obvious? Did he somehow telegraph his fear of being abandoned? 

As he followed the nurse, Evan glanced over his shoulder and caught a blur of dark clothing as Connor disappeared into the late evening. 

_____________


	6. bare it all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> late night bonding with the boys, Evan finally tells Connor what really happened the day they met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -this starts out pretty fluffy or just chill, turns a bit serious at the end.
> 
> -also I literally live for boys painting each other's nails and bonding. 
> 
> -this is pretty obviously further in their relationship so it's a bit of a jump from the last few parts. 
> 
> -also 300 I love y'all

Connor had a habit of showing up on Evan's doorstep unannounced, usually at some weird hour between ten in the evening and one in the morning. 

One time he showed up past four in the morning, waking Evan with his phone call, and telling him they were going on an adventure. 

Which was fine, his mom didn't care even when she was home. He didn’t really mind either, but it still made his anxiety spike for a little bit because he hadn't prepared to talk to anyone. Even if it was a friend, it still took a lot of energy to talk to people. 

Most of the time their 'adventures' consisted of just hanging out in Evan's room and doing some kind of calm activity or even just talking.

That's why it wasn't a surprise when he was disturbed from his book by a buzzing on his bedside table. 

_im outside_

a second message popped up as he opened the first. 

_come let me in my dude_

Evan tapped out a sarcastic response as he heaved himself out of bed.

_what if I told you no_

A message bubble popped back to him almost immediately. 

_i'd probably call your mom and tell her to make you let me in_

His mom really liked Connor so he was probably right, she would let him in.

_what if she couldn't answer? then you'd be s.o.l._

_let me in so I can fight you_

At this point Evan had been standing by his front door for a few seconds just to see his response, but he finally opened the door. 

"I'm here to talk to you about our lord and savior Jesus Christ." Connor spouted immediately. 

"Only if you have a pamphlet." 

Connor laughed as Evan pushed the screen door open for him to step inside. 

"Guess what we're gonna do." 

He repeated Connor's phrasing back at him in the same enthusiastic tone he had used. 

"What are we gonna do?" 

They trekked the short distance back to Evan's room and made themselves comfortable on the floor. To be honest Evan just followed what Connor did because he couldn't care less about where they sat. 

Connor shrugged his bag off and set it in his lap, digging through it and finally pulling out two items: black nail polish and a CD.

"We," he answered, "are going to listen to music and paint our nails." 

"Are we like, ten years old?" 

"Shush, you're gonna have fun. It's a classic." He glanced around the room and then said, "do you have a CD player?" 

Evan stared blankly at him, amazed for a moment that Connor was here, that Connor was his friend. 

He had an actual, real-life friend. 

His mind tried to snub the quiet feeling of happiness, telling him _he's just here because he feels bad for you, he feels obligated to stay because he helped you and took you to the ER and he thinks you're annoying and he doesn't want to be here._

He remembered his therapist's assignment to 'challenge those thoughts' whenever he recognized them. It's something she's drilled in his head since he started sessions with her and he still has trouble with it.

"What is it, 2005?" He quipped, then added, "I uh, I probably do somewhere in the back of my closet." 

_Connor wants to be here. He wouldn't stay if he didn't want to. He wouldn't consistently contact me if he didn't want to._ He reassured himself. 

"Always so negative! I told you, it's a classic sleepover night, we're keeping it authentic." 

Evan just looked at him with a half smile and raised eyebrows before crawling to his closet to search. 

"Is that so?" Evan's voice floated out slightly muffled by clothes and other items that were shoved precariously on a low shelf as he looked. 

"Yup, let me tell you, this mixtape is _fire_. I made it just for you." 

_I made it just for you_

_no he didn't, why would he do that?_

Evan's mind was suddenly in a panic, he never knew how to react to positive attention so whenever it happened he just kind of shut down and deflected. 

Finally finding his old boom box, inefficiently sized and covered in dog stickers, he fumbled it and fell back out of his closet, triumphantly. 

"If you're 'keeping it authentic' you can't use phrases like 'this mixtape is fire.'" 

"Okay, so authentic was an exaggeration." He said, "now gimme." 

He held his hands out expectantly and Evan complied, placing the old player into his hands. 

Connor had no problem figuring out how to work it, and sat back once the music started playing, satisfied. 

"Right, now the fun part." 

He patted the carpet in front of him in a gesture for Evan to come closer. Even though they had been friends for a while, he still felt uncomfortable being this close to Connor, but that was mostly because he was always uncomfortable being that close to literally anyone. 

Connor shook the bottle of black nail polish and grabbed for one of Evan's hands. 

"Black?"

"Is that a problem?" He looked up at Evan through his eyelashes, head still turned slightly down. 

"Well, I mean, no, it's just, it's not really a 'me' color, you know?"

Connor looked up and smiled, placing the nail polish on the floor next to them and reaching for his bag. 

"Ah, as the prophecy foretold." 

"You're a dork." 

He produced a second bottle of nail polish, but this one was a subtle pinkish color that looked almost beige. 

"I almost didn't bring this one with me, but I thought it would suit your skin tone if you didn't want the _obviously_ superior nail color." 

_I thought it would suit your skin tone_

His brain was screaming at him that these things were false, that Connor would never think about him without prior prompting. 

"Honestly I'm surprised you have any color other than black." 

Connor reclaimed Evan's hand as he shook the new bottle of polish. 

"I like to keep people on their toes." 

Unscrewing the bottle, he steadied Evan's pinky and began painting it. 

"Guess what this color is called." 

Evan's hands always shook like crazy, and he could tell it was making it a little difficult to paint them. Connor readjusted his hand to better brace Evan's shaking fingers, pulling it closer and placing it on his knee.

"Is it 'send nudes'?"

His face was barely visible but Evan could a see a smile lift the corners of his eyes and wrinkle the skin on his cheeks into layers of crescent moons. An outward breath escaped his nose in a quiet laugh. 

"No, but it should be." He dipped the brush back in the bottle and started on the middle finger. "It's called 'bare it all.'"

"Hey, I was actually pretty close." 

Connor didn't say anything, but it wasn't uncomfortable, he seemed to just be concentrated on keeping the polish from getting on Evan's skin too much. 

The CD playing softly in the background switched tracks and Evan recognized the song as one that had played on their drive to hospital the first time they met. He could hear Connor's steady breathing over the music and he was struck suddenly by an overwhelming emotion, which one, he didn't know. It gripped his chest and stole the breath that escaped his slightly open mouth. 

Then there was guilt.

"Evan?" 

He was snapped back into the moment and found that the nail polish bottle was closed and both hands were painted. 

He lifted them slowly and looked at the shiny color. They looked pretty. Even on his short, chewed-to-the-nub nails. 

He frowned and looked up, then down to his nails, and then back up to Connor, slowly lowering his hands and looking away from the expectant face of his friend. 

"Can I tell you something?"

Connor's face fell into a mixture of confusion and concern. He knew he was being vague, but he needed to ease into it. 

He needed to tell him. He deserved to know. 

"Of course." 

There was still time to back out, _back out now._ His stomach flipped and flipped and flipped and he _couldn't do it, he had to do it._

_he had to do it._

"Do you- do you- remember the day we first met?" 

He couldn't back out now- but maybe there was still a way he could spin it back into something casual. 

"Yeah," he paused, "I found you tangled up in a tree limb." 

Evan's heart dropped into his stomach. Of course, Connor had a way of making bad memories a little less bad. He let out a strained laugh and went to fidget with his bracelet, remembering he had wet nails and spinning it around his wrist carefully as to not smudge them. 

"Well yeah, and at- at the hospital, I told the doctor I fell- out of the tree. Before I tripped and- and you found me." 

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a bead down into the skin on his wrist, feeling his pulse resonate lightly into his thumb. 

"Evan, where is this going?" 

"Just- god, I'm sorry. I really am, I just, I didn't know what to do anymore and- and I- and I-" 

Connor was genuinely confused and trying to read between the lines to see if there was something he had missed. He knew it was seriously distressing because Evan was repeating his words again. He hadn't done that around Connor for a while. 

"I don't understand." 

Evan brought his knees to his chest and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He dragged his fingernails down his forehead and brought them to rest heavily above his eyebrows. He thought vaguely that he'd probably look silly with little half-moons on his forehead but right now he needed to feel something, to keep him in the moment, to relieve his stress in some physical way before it literally burst his heart in his chest. 

His hands pressed harder.

A soft voice floated through his ears, "Evan?" 

In an even smaller voice, Evan allowed himself to be vulnerable. 

"I let go." 

It felt like his heart finally stopped. Would he regret it later? Probably. The tension had snapped and he was utterly and completely exposed for Connor to take it or leave it. Stay with him or leave him. 

"Is it okay if I touch you?" 

He found himself nodding. He appreciated Connor had made sure he was okay with it in his state, sometimes touch made it worse. 

He felt thin fingers grasp his wrists lightly and a gentle tug pulled them away from his face. Evan kept his eyes closed. 

"I let go." He whispered again, "I let go, Connor. _I let go._ " 

Connor ran his thumbs lightly over Evan's knuckles in an attempt to keep him at least somewhat grounded. 

"Can you listen to me very closely?" A nod. "Evan, I want you to know that you don't have to be ashamed. You don't have to apologize for your feelings. You're here now, and I'm here with you." 

He squeezed Evan's hands lightly. "Thank you for trusting me with this. It doesn't go outside the two of us. Pinky promise." 

Evan opened his eyes and saw Connor's pinky poised in front of him and an earnest look on his face. 

He locked their pinkies together and finally made eye contact. Connor was looking at him with hazel eyes that exuded a powerful sense of care and kinship, it was like Evan could physically feel the bond between them. 

Connor nodded, Evan nodded back. 

Somewhere in the back of Evan's mind he was thinking that Connor should learn to take his own advice.


	7. even if the cops come calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is a mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -happy fourth Americans!
> 
> -can you tell I've been an emotional wreck lately lol
> 
> -the stuff Connor's dad says are things my dad has said to me and could be seen as abusive////
> 
> -some homophobic stuff in this one////
> 
> -500 I am shook
> 
> -edit: forgot to mention this part happens before the last part, although it doesn't really change anything, just how I imagined it

The bones in Connor's fingers were locked in place around the segments of Evan's fingers. Which were a little sweaty. And yeah, maybe it was Connor's fault and maybe if he hadn't taken advantage of Evan's passive nature things wouldn't have turned to shit so quickly. 

But then again, if he hadn't done that he probably wouldn't be holding Evan's hand right now. 

It was weird, but Connor felt as though they were closer as friends now, they were bonding as they hid behind a crumbling cement wall, colorful graffiti sticking out and making it _maybe_ not the best hiding place. 

An angry voice calling out made Evan let out a squeak and whisper, " _Connor._ "

"Where the fuck did you go, fucking coward!" 

Connor placed a hand over Evan's mouth and held his breath. The voice called out again but this time seemed further away. 

"Come out and fight me!" 

Connor swiped the back of his hand across his face in an attempt to wipe the blood from his nose and stop it from going into his mouth. He just ended up smearing it across his cheek. 

His wrist throbbed. 

- _you're a terrible person._

_I know_

- _you're going to get him hurt_

_I know_

- _you're so selfish how could you drag him into this he didn't deserve this, you don't deserve him, you don't deserve-_

_I KNOW_

___________________

"Evan get dressed we're going on an adventure."

The front door had barely been opened before Connor began speaking. Evan blinked dumbly at him, half asleep in his wrinkled basketball shorts and t shirt. 

"Connor, it's 2 AM." 

He rolled his eyes, annoyed. Always trying to be 'reasonable' and 'safe'. Couldn't he just do this one time, Connor was tired of doing boring things, he wanted a real adventure. 

"Thank you Big Ben, I know that." 

He pushed past Evan and walked back to the bedroom with baby blue walls and and photographs of nature pinned on all the empty spaces. One wall was even dedicated to pictures of the two of them together and for a moment Connor felt guilty. 

Glancing over his shoulder he saw that Evan had followed and now stood disoriented in the doorway. 

"Come on, put on pants, chop chop." 

He stared blankly and stumbled forward a step. 

"Fine, I'll get them." Connor pulled open drawers and finally found some sweatpants to protect Evan's legs from itchy grass and low hanging twigs. "Put these on." 

Evan complied wordlessly, still very clearly confused and a little groggy with sleep. 

- _you're awful_

 _I need to do this I can't just sit around Evan wants to help me and this is what I need right now_

He knew Evan probably didn't want to do this, it was late, he was trying to sleep and Connor was refusing to tell him where they were going. 

Honestly, Connor was a mess. His parents had screamed at him for doing poorly in school. He tried to explain that if he could do it, he would. That he wanted more than anything to be normal. 

He then started having a panic attack, his dad called him worthless and told him he couldn't just run away from the world anymore. When Connor stuttered out 'I can't do this right now' between breaths, his dad had demanded _when_ he would be able to do it. _When_ he would stop being a whiny baby that leeched off his parents and pretended to be ill so he continue being lazy and never work a real job. _When_ would he stop being such a burden on everyone around him?

"I want to die," he whispered to himself.

- _hit me_

The words were abusive but his hands were not. They never had been. His dad once yelled at him for panicking in front of a police officer after he got in a car accident and proclaimed loudly to his mother afterwards that he'd "never laid a hand on him and this is how he acts? He makes me look like a piece of shit and they probably think I smack him around." 

- _hit me! beat me the fuck up! bruise my face! crack my ribs! kick the shit out of me!_

_stop it. why would you ask for that? do you know how many people don't get a choice?_

- _I deserve it I deserve it I DESRVE IT_

He had then stumbled to his room, lightheaded from hyperventilation and eyes swollen half shut from crying. 

His face was numb, his hands were numb and cramped in a way that resembled lobster claws. His panic attacks robbed him of the ability to control the muscles on his face and hands, sometimes even his whole arms. 

He sat clumsily against a wall and braced himself unsuccessfully with an elbow, falling to one side and smacking his head on the side of his dresser. 

_stop it stop it stop it stop it stop crying_

His brain was yelling 'no' on a loop and flashing images of him dying in different ways, but with one thing in common: he was responsible.

His muscles were sore and his whole body ached from the constant tension. 

After a few minutes, he suddenly stopped crying and his breathing slowly returned to normal. His vision was fuzzy but it wasn't from tears anymore. All sounds were filtered through his ears as though he were underwater. 

He stood up, body filled with static and a completely blank expression, grabbed his keys, his cell phone, and stuffed the several orange bottles containing the cocktail of pills they forced him take every day into a small drawstring bag. 

- _they just want to silence you, you can't trust them. You don't need them._

The all knowing entity that was 'them'. The spying 'they' that lurked in corners and disguised themselves as his family and bugged his electronics to monitor his every move. 

Walking through the house and to his car, he could vaguely hear his parents yelling at him again. 

"Where are you going." 

"Don't walk out that fucking door." 

The words didn't register and he walked quickly past them, they weren't his parents. His real parents had been kidnapped and replaced and these were the inferior copies that inhabited realistic skin suits to spy on him and find a way to control him. 

At some point he found himself in Evan's driveway, a little more grounded in reality now.

- _go get beat the fuck up. find someone to cave your ribs in. Self destruct self destruct you should have stayed home and killed yourself_

_something else needs to happen to me, then no one would hate me for being selfish because it would be an accident_

That's how he ended up in Evan's bedroom, making him get dressed and ushering him out the door and into the car with no explanation. 

Finally shaking the last remnants of sleep away, Evan apparently had enough time to process what was going on to ask exactly that. 

"Where are we going?" 

Connor hummed out a quiet grumble as he thought about the spat with his parents. Well, more of a full blown fight than a mild spat. 

"Away." 

He felt Evan's eyes on the side of his head. The tendons in Connor's hands popped white as he squeezed the wheel. 

"Connor." 

_"What."_

He didn't need Evan to question him right now, he needed to go somewhere with someone he liked without them asking questions. 

Evan seemed to sense his irritation and clarified in an attempt to placate it. 

"I'm on board Connor, I understand needing to get away for a while. I just wanted to know where we were going." 

"Why do you need to know so bad? Why can't you just do this for me?"

"I have anxiety." Evan deadpanned. 

Connor felt some understanding click into place and he laughed mildly. He _was_ being an asshole.

"We're going to a forest. Well, a closed down orchard that's overgrown."

"Right."

"It's very spooky." 

Evan sighed, but didn't press any further. He could tell Connor was a little unstable at the moment. He was anxious himself, yes, but he respected Connor's feelings as well. 

They sat in silence for the rest of the drive into the countryside. The two lane highway turned to a gravel road riddled with deep potholes. Connor wound the car back and forth across the road to avoid the worst of them, trying to guide the wheels between the shuddering rivets as to not throw his front axle out of whack. 

There were no streetlights, no light at all except for the high beams illuminating a short distance in front of them. 

- _it would easy to just 'lose control' of the car and slam head on into a tree or flip the car a couple times into a ditch. That'd be dramatic. Tragic. A real shame. They'd pull my body from the wreckage, I might even get to be in the newspaper._

_'teen dies in freak road accident,' freak accident for a freak teenager._

He visualized his own death and pulled up to the gravel 'parking lot' outside the rotting fence around the orchard. 

_stop it. stop giving into it. you have another person with you and you don't want to involve someone else, he doesn't deserve it_

Connor shut the car off and slid the keys out slowly. Evan was first to break the silence. 

"Do you, want to talk about why we're here?" He asked carefully, then amended his words almost immediately, "I mean, I'm not trying to pry or force you to talk, because you really don't have to, I just wanted to throw it out there that I'll listen if you need me to, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable if you don't want to-" 

"It's okay Evan, I know what you mean." Connor cut him off before he overthought it too much more. 

"Oh." 

Connor was so out of it, so all over the place, he had no idea where to start, if he even wanted to start. His idea of 'opening up' was like pulling open a door and finding a brick wall behind it. 

"I want to tell you, but I don't know if I even can right now." He sighed, suddenly exhausted. "Let's go take a walk." 

- _and not stop until you pass out_

_I wonder how many calories I could burn_

He shook the thoughts away. 

_not now_

They opened their doors and climbed out of the low car, then slammed them back shut, one at a slight delay. The sound stopped short in the heavy air, and humidity settled in their lungs. 

Eventually they found a fallen log nestled in two 'y' shaped trees some ways into the forest and sat down to talk, or not talk, or something. Connor hadn't decided yet. The log was at a slight angle and Connor took the high ground so Evan could lean against the trunk of the supporting tree. 

Connor picked at a loose thread in one of the tears his jeans sported at the knees. He still felt like his brain was filled with static, but the kind of static that you could see a bit of the picture behind. Not enough to completely get the story but enough to guess what was going on. 

He crossed his arms under the crook in his legs and rested his chin on his knees, staring absently at a spot in the darkness somewhere behind Evan. 

"Thanks," he started, "for putting up with me, and coming with me." 

"Yeah, I mean, it doesn't bother me at all." He paused, hesitation clear in his next statement. "I am really worried though. I don't know what I can do to help." 

Connor smiled softly and felt the urge to cry well up and burn the corners of his eyes. 

_why?_

He hoped Evan's eyes hadn't adjusted to dark so he wouldn't be able to see his pained smile. 

"You're perfect, I haven't given you a lot to work with." 

His mouth pulled into an ugly frown and his eyebrows knotted together, contorting his face as he tried not to cry. The first silent sob shook his body and he inhaled sharply. He did not need Evan to see him cry. Why was his mood so all over the place?

_it's just a thing that happens, you know that. this isn't new_

Tears pooled in the waterline of his eyes and he looked upward, blinking furiously. 

_breathebreathebreathe_

He felt Evan's hand pat one of his shoes awkwardly.

"I- I just want to do what I can. You deserve it." 

_no I don't no I don't no I don't, you should have yelled at me and told me to fuck off why are here why are you being so nice to me I don't deserve this_

His body silently shook again and he hoped Evan couldn't feel it. If he did, he didn't mention it. 

They sat together like that for a while, Connor shaking and hiding his sobs, Evan rubbing his thumb along the bit of exposed ankle above his socks. It was a little awkward, mainly because Evan was tense and never knew how to handle these things. 

He definitely knew Connor was crying. 

They heard twigs snapping in the distance and voices carrying quietly through the trees. Connor grabbed Evan's wrist and held on tightly, he could feel the pulse in it slightly elevated. Both of them spoke at the same time.

"Did you hear that?"

"What the fuck was that?"

Park ranger? Police officer? This place was abandoned, why would the government spend money on security this far out? 

A couple more seconds passed and they could hear the voices a little clearer and a pinprick of light, presumably from the LED flashlight of a cell phone. 

Connor relaxed a little. "Sounds like some other teenagers found the same haunt we did." 

The sudden change in atmosphere had halted his circling emotions and replaced it with fear, but now that it had dissipated he just felt calm. 

His hand was still around Evan's wrist and he panicked for a second, he had a decision to make now that he had noticed it. Taking the risky route, he repositioned his hand and laced his fingers through Evan's. He didn't pull away. 

The voices were much closer and Connor called out so they wouldn't be surprised when they ran into each other. 

"Don't freak out, there's other people here." 

The light flicked over to them immediately, and Connor shaded his eyes with his free hand. 

"Hey, don't burn fuckin' my retinas."

He glanced at Evan and saw him staring wide eyed, deer in the headlights style, Straight into the flashlight. 

The person lowered the light and stepped closer, revealing himself two other people, a girl and another guy, next to him. 

Apparently the guy saw them holding hands and decided to speak up about it. He scoffed loudly, before gesturing to the two of them.

"Are we interrupting something?" It wasn't a question. 

_don't bite, Connor, don't bite._

He did anyway.

"Yeah actually, you are. Don't be rude." His tone was snarky and matter of fact. 

Evan's head whipped around to look at Connor and his eyes pleaded for him to not start a confrontation. 

"Well people like you aren't allowed in this place. Not while we're here."

The girl gasped quietly and whispered _"Jordan!"_

Sorry Evan. 

"Really dude? 'People like you'? How did grow up in this era and still manage to be that much of an asshole about gay people?" 

The guy, Jordan, threw his hands up in feigned innocence. "Hey man, you said it."

Connor could feel his rage from earlier begin to bubble up again. 

"Honestly what the fuck? I don't think _people like you_ should be allowed to have an opinion." 

"Don't start-" 

"If you're gonna be a dick, you could at least have more educated opinions."

 _"Connor."_ Evan squeezed his hand slightly.

"And I mean really, your head is so far up your ass I don't think it's me who should be concerned about their sexuality."

Yeah, he could have diffused the situation, and he knew he was going to piss the guy off, but he was in self destruct mode and was picking a fight he knew he wouldn't win.

"Alright-"

The gloves came off and all hell broke loose. 

Connor stood and fronted on the guy, yelling at him to 'hit first!' 

That's exactly what he did, he swung and got a punch squarely on the side of Connor's face. 

He let out a whoop and taunted some more. "That all you got?"

Both of the guy's friends had stepped back and Evan's hand was over his mouth in shock. 

'Jordan' grunted angrily and swung again, this time missing the mark when Connor ducked. He then threw his own punch, whole forearm straight into the guy's chest, one after the other, successfully knocking him backward a few steps. 

"You seem a little submissive for such big talker." 

The guy caught his balance quickly and reared back for another hit, fist catching Connor's face right on the eye socket and upper nose. He could feel it stinging and pricks of numbness creeping in through his sinuses. A warm flow of what he could only assume was blood trickled out of the left nostril.

A kick came quickly after, the guy's heel landing right in the center of his ribs, forcing the air out and causing him to lose his balance and fall roughly to the dewy grass. His lungs gave another wheeze when he hit the ground and Connor struggled to get any air back in. 

He didn't get up, didn't fight back anymore. 

- _hit me again! keep bruising me! destroy me, crack my ribs, break my fingers, wreak havoc on my skin, I deserve it I deserve it_

He felt another kick to his side and fought to inhale once more. 

- _do it again!_

Evan's voice called through the sounds of his strained breathing, "Connor! Get up!"

_get up_

He rolled over sluggishly and pushed himself on all fours. A shove from 'Jordan's' foot made him fall to the side again.

_get up_

"Jordan, stop." The other guy's voice this time.

He looked away long enough for Connor to drag himself off the ground and run for Evan. He grabbed Evan's wrist roughly and pulled him along. 

They sprinted through the darkness and ducked behind a large tree. 

Sounds of muffled voices came from somewhere behind them, a little drowned out by the sounds of their heavy breathing. He let go of Evan's wrist and readjusted so that they were holding hands. 

Connor took off again, gripping Evan's hand tight and smiling wildly to himself. He was exhilarated, high on some kind of bizarre energy from being kicked around. 

_I deserve it I deserve it I deserve it_

He tripped suddenly and fell forward, taking Evan with him. He held out his free hand to try and brace himself, but all it did was twist uncomfortably as Evan toppled onto him. 

_I deserve it_

He let out a crazed laugh as pain shot through his wrist and up his arm. 

"Evan we gotta go." A giggle. 

He stumbled clumsily up from the ground and helped Evan up behind him, sliding their fingers together as they ran directionless through the trees. 

He pulled them down behind a cement wall he guessed was probably some kind of office or maybe an outhouse before the orchard closed. 

So yeah, maybe it was Connor's fault. Maybe they could have avoided the situation altogether. And maybe Connor didn't really care. 

That was lie, he cared, but only about Evan. He could be left to rot for all he cared, but there was no way he wanted Evan to get dragged into his messy life and get tangled into Connor's impulsivity and potentially get hurt because of him. 

Yeah, he did feel guilty. It made him feel even worse than he did before he went to Evan's. This whole situation caught up to Connor and he felt like crying. He felt like panicking. He'd probably end up doing both but he needed to get them out of there before he let himself break. 

Connor tried grounding. 

_I can feel my fingers pressing against his._

One. 

_i can feel my clothes sticking to me from the sweat_

Two. 

- _too much too hot too many sensory inputs too hot_

He put his hand over his own mouth and tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. He slowly squeezed Evan's hand and held it while his chest heaved and his heart ached. 

If he was paying attention, if he could see through the dark, he may have seen the look of concern and care on Evan's face, but he didn't. 

He just let everything crash down around him, crouched behind the remnants of a place where people would go for serene walks and have happy picnics with their families. 

Everything was wrong, everything was too much too much too much and his chest sank into his spine and his lungs never quite got enough air and tremors shook his whole body and _everything was just wrong._

His world crumbled down around him and the only thing he could comprehend anymore was the way Evan's fingers locked together with his own.


	8. we wait for morning to wake you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -this was wild I have no explanation for this. 
> 
> -also I'm sorry this was so long from the last time, I hit that writer's block again. I have like 3 other parts to this that are half written but I can't seem to finish. 
> 
> -double also this is not proofread I am writing this literally before I go to sleep bc I have work in the morning. 
> 
> -and thank you so much to everyone who comments and reads and gives kudos (I try really hard to make this fairly realistic while not having it be boring)

You know you fucked up when the most passive and non-confrontational person becomes explosively upset. 

Connor knew he fucked up when they had finally escaped to the car and Evan's voice cut through the small space, causing the guilt he'd been harboring to bubble over and wrap itself around his ribcage in a painful embrace. 

"Connor, what the _fuck_ was that?"

Everything was still catching up to him and it felt like hundreds of pins were using his heart as their cushion. It felt like it would shatter and burst at any moment, sending shards of guilt and fear and anxiety into his lungs and force his chest to collapse. 

The weight of everything was crushing him and it forced him forward onto the steering wheel where his body shook pathetically and sobs ripped through his bones. 

"I'm sorry." 

He didn't raise his head for fear of making eye contact but he needed to see what Evan was feeling. Connor looked out of the corner of his eye and saw him hunched over, hands over his face, sighing deeply with what Connor guessed was anger. 

Why wouldn't he be angry? He had every right to be. It was well past 4 in the morning and he _should_ be mad about being dragged through Connor's self destructive outbursts. 

He felt Evan look at him and glanced towards him again. His mind added confusion to the mess when he didn't see anger. 

"You didn't even fight back." It was quiet, exasperated. 

"I fought back." He tried to sound indignant, but it came out weak and his voice cracked halfway through. 

Evan just looked at him. 

"I fought back!" He said, this time sounding more desperate. 

"Look, Connor, I don't really know what's going on right now, but I can't help if you don't talk to me." 

Connor shook his head and laughed bitterly. 

"Honestly Evan I don't even think a licensed psychiatrist could help if I talked." 

There was a beat of silence where Evan opened his mouth and closed it quickly. He thought for a moment. To be fair, he didn't feel like his therapist wasn't helping him all that much so he understood where Connor was coming from. Then he though maybe it wasn't the therapist or whatever professional was the the problem. 

He looked at Connor, his cheeks were flushed, eyes red. He looked a mess with the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears on his face, but literally. 

Connor stared back. 

He really didn't want to do this, not now, not when Connor was so unstable, not when he was trapped in a small space with him. 

"Do you- want help?" It was something he knew very well, that no one could be helped if they didn't want to be helped. 

Connor just blinked, a totally blank expression on his face. 

Then his bottom lip quivered slightly and he dropped his head in defeat before picking it up again, avoiding eye contact. 

"I-" Connor's voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't know. I think- I think I want to want help. Does that make sense?" 

Evan nodded, and kept nodding for moment while he spoke, "yeah, yeah it does." 

Connor leaned his head back, his bun pressing against the headrest and making his head lean upward toward the ceiling. He squeezed his eyes shut and a tear rolled down his temple and into the flyaway strands of hair that rested there. 

"I'm really tired. Can we just go home?" 

"Absolutely, but I'm driving. I don't know the way back so you'll have to stay awake." He opened the side door and paused. "Sorry kid." 

Connor scoffed and sniffled. "Kid? I'm older than you." 

"Yeah, by like two months!" 

He got out of the car and closed the door, walking around to the driver's side. When he opened the door Connor had maneuvered himself to the passenger seat and was already relaxed back with his feet up on the dash. 

"Still older than you." He said, as Evan slid into the car and started the engine. 

He pulled the car out of the lot and started on the winding path back to the city. Just like that, they were back to calm conversation and banter, Bright Eyes playing as a quiet soundtrack to the long drive ahead. 

-  
"Hey Evan, let's go stay at my house." Connor said when they got to the city. 

He didn't feel like being alone. He didn't feel like he could be alone. Especially not when in control of a car. 

"I mean, won't your parents be upset? I know they don't like last minute plans." 

_-he doesn't want to hang out with you. You've made him uncomfortable around you._

"You don't have to stay if you don't want, I just thought-"

"No, I want to." 

"Oh." 

- _now look what you've done, you made the situation uncomfortable_

Conner cleared his throat and picked up the conversation, "well, after I left my mom texted me that they're staying at my aunt's for a while," 

_-because they can't deal with you_

"And Zoe is at Alana's, and well, that's a thing." 

Evan nodded, "I'm sorry your parents fight with you so much." 

"It's fine." He said, "Sorry we never go to my house." 

He'd been to Evan's a million times before but they'd only been to Connor's a handful of times, all but one of them his parents weren't home. Because that was kind of the point, he wanted to get away from his parents. 

Evan laughed a little "That's not even on the same level, dude. You don't have to apologize. I really don't mind. I don't want to cause any problems with your parents and make things harder for you." 

Evan put Connor's car into park in his driveway. He was much more calm on the outside, and the storm in his head was on the downhill slide. Just debris in the gray matter. 

Connor's house was completely dark and he stumbled blindly for a light switch while at the same time trying to kick off his shoes. 

Now they were in the bathroom, Connor on the lid of the toilet and Evan on the side of the bathtub with a wet cloth to clean Connor's face. Yeah he could probably do it himself, but it was easier for someone else to see everything that needed to be done. 

- _you know that's not why_

_shut up_

"They're not all bad, you know." 

"Hm?" 

Evan paused his gentle wiping for a moment, they had been silent up until that point, both denying that they were holding their breath from anxiety of the closeness. It was like the night he painted Evan's nails but Connor's meltdown had made him embarrassed now that he was in a better state of mind. 

"I mean my parents. They're not complete hellspawn, I just always vent to you so you only hear the bad stuff." 

Evan smiled and stood to rinse the cloth, having cleaned his face from the blood. 

"Tell me some good stuff then."

"Well last week, I woke up early and my mom and dad were already up, and I joined them with my early morning coffee. You know." He shrugged. 

"And we actually had good conversation. Like, it was fun and we joked and talked for a few hours and then my dad made us blueberry pancakes with fresh blueberries." 

Connor sighed and dropped his head onto his knees. "It's times like that I wish we could have all the time. Like a normal family." 

"I can tell you right now that 'normal families' are just as messy as yours." 

Evan was back in the side of the bathtub, this time just sitting, his knee touching Connor's socked toes hanging off the edge of the toilet. 

They made eye contact and Connor got sad. Really really sad, but he also got that feeling of chest crushing breathlessness he couldn't identify. 

Connor was surprised when it was Evan who broke the tension. Evan who leaned in and kissed him. 

_is this a joke? Am I being punk'd?_

It took a couple of seconds for his brain to catch up before he kissed back because he felt Evan pulling away. He followed his lips to continue the kiss and show him that he did want it and that Evan had _definitely_ made the right decision. 

Then Evan surprised him again by pulling away and pulling him towards Connor's bedroom. 

"Evan I-" 

They were in the doorway, hands clasped, and Evan stopped immediately, looking concerned. 

"I'm not-" 

"I know. I mean, I thought you said you were okay with kissing?" 

Relief flooded in and suddenly he was ready to have Evans lips back on his. Evan was one of two people who knew he was ace, Zoe being the other. 

Connor just grinned and nodded and leaned in to kiss him again. 

Evan, apparently full of surprises, grabbed Connor's hair lightly and pushed his hips so they backed into a wall, Connor's spine connecting with drywall roughly. 

Goddamn this kid, if he could be sexually attracted to anyone it would probably be Evan. 

Evan's other hand went to Connor's neck and he just put his hands up to the wall, making a 'w' with his upper body. He melted completely, not even paying attention to his limbs. 

Evan's hands grabbed Connor's wrists and lifted them before pressing them hard into the wall. He pulled away and stared at Connor's face in disbelief. 

"Who are you and what have you done with Evan Hansen?" 

He grinned, rolling his eyes, "shut up." 

Never in a million, billion years would Connor have expecting this night to end up like this. For this chain of events to happen. This night was exhausting and eventful but at least it wasn't all bad. 

Evan looked up to where his hands were pinning Connor's to the wall and let them go suddenly embarrassed. 

Connor said it first, "I think I- I think I love you."

"I think I love you too."


	9. Chemical Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries his best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Half the time when I write I'm rather in a genuinely creative headspace or I'm in a distinctly dissociative state, guess which one i was in for this chapter lol
> 
> -also im so sorry its been so long, my life kind of turned into a shitshow and I have like 3 separate half-finished chapters/parts to this story(i wrote this one in september yikes), so if its not edited well or seems a little underdeveloped/pointless i apologize, im in a bit of a writing rut and the only way I can really write is through venting. 
> 
> -I do definitely want to continue this but it may take some time. I was doing ECT for a bit but it didnt really help so now I think I'll be going back to regular therapy and this day program at the hospital to see if that starts becoming effective. 
> 
> -anyway, didn't mean to overshare or anything i just want to make it clear that im still invested in this story and want to see it through!

It's September. Mid September and the weather hit a wonderful 90 degrees Fahrenheit. (where the hell was the fall weather?) September and he's already beginning to put up his halloween decorations in his room. Plastic orange jack o' lanterns covering small bulbs on a string of lights pinned around his mirror. 

He used to joke with one of his friends that the mirror looked like it was a 'portal to another dimension.' It did look a bit like a door- a fancy one- flat bottom, curved top, like it could belong in a church if you split it down the middle. 

Another string of orange lights borders the empty wall where his bed is. These lights have pumpkins and bats hanging from them in alternating strings connected to the main cord. 

He's in his bed now, binge watching Criminal Minds (because what kind of borderline would he be if he didn't purposely trigger himself?), and thinking about the next morning. 

His next med check. 

He was originally supposed to go the week before but slept through the appointment and had to reschedule. It wouldn't have happened had the appointment been made for the usual two weeks rather than the one week his doctor insisted he come back. 

She had been saying for the last few times that he reconsider going back into the hospital, especially if his 'condition' didn't improve. 

Med change after med change, and nothing seemed to be working. He wasn't looking for a fix all, he knew it didn't work that way. His ultimate end goal was for the symptoms of his mental illness to be manageable. Was that too much to ask?

Realistically, he knew it would be a lifelong struggle. He knew he'd probably never stop wanting to die, even just passively, but it would still be there. He couldn't remember a time when that feeling wasn't just sort of... there. He cut himself for the first time as a sixth grader and was thinking like that for at least a year before. His memory was shoddy and there were complete gaps of time missing (dissociation, they keep telling him), but he does remember he'd been a little kid when these thoughts and behaviors fist manifested. 

Self destructive behaviors showed up in his temper tantrums when he would bang his head against a wall until his nose bled. Attention seeking behaviors were there when his parents were dismissive because he was the second kid, they'd already been through it once and apparently were just bored by the time Connor was born. So he felt abandoned, and sought out the approval of everyone else, and became a chameleon of personality, adapting and changing to fit the situation to best please the person he was with at the time. 

That led to the need to be perfect, led to his eating disorder, led to him cutting because he internalized _literally everything_ and he didn't know how else to deal with everything in his head all at once. 

Of course it was more complicated than that, and there were tons of other epiphanies he'd had the older he got, and the web of his psyche was tangled indeed, but none of that even really mattered at that point. 

Because he was well drugged up and still not functioning any better. Listing all the meds he'd been on could rival the repetitive study sessions of a pharmacology student. He could tell you brand names and generics, the class of drug, what they treated, their dual purposes, and yet none of them seemed to help. 

And tomorrow his doctor was going to ask him how he'd been feeling and if the new meds had helped any. And he had no idea what to tell her. 

He didn't feel any better, but he didn't feel any worse. Honestly the best way to describe how he was feeling was blank; static. 

He didn't want to go back to the hospital and he wasn't planning on killing himself so there wouldn't really be any reason for him to go anyway. 

Although he wouldn't really say he didn't want to die because if the chance presented itself he probably wouldn't try very hard to live, whatever that meant. His self preservation was essentially zero. And so was his sense of self and just about everything else about him. 

He felt like he just existed and did things and went along for the ride, like his body and his consciousness were two separate beings and they were never quite connected enough for him to feel like a person. 

_

His doctor, Carolina, was still urging him to admit himself to inpatient, or at the very least go back to the partial-hospitalization program. He had been to Partial before, and he did feel like it helped in some ways. It was fascinating but also comforting to be in a place where he could display symptoms of his mental illness and everyone just went along with it. There was no judgement, no pity, just understanding on a level that didn't need to be explained. He met some amazing people, everyone was able to bond over the fact that they were still around despite the fact they had to struggle through every day, watching people that had a much easier time getting through life. 

That wasn't him saying that anyone without mental illness had it necessarily 'easy', but they were all in the hospital for a reason. 

Connor realized he had zoned out while Carolina was talking, but he assumed it was pretty much the same thing she always said, "Remember, the hospital is always an option."

Swallowing his pride, Connor took a deep breath and nodded. 

"I think- I think I want to try Partial again." 

Carolina smiled sadly and nodded too. 

"I think that's probably a good idea. I'll give a call to the hospital to refer you over there." she paused, "Take care of yourself, Connor. Call someone if you feel like you need to talk." 

Connor sighed internally. She was always so nice, and she was the type of doctor that genuinely cared about the well-being of her patients outside of the office. It was just that he was so sick of being pitied or worried about, he hated the fact that people genuinely cared about him sometimes. That just meant more disappointment down the line when they figured out what a piece of shit he really was. 

"Thank you. It's good seeing you again."

She nodded, standing to open the door for him, "Remember Connor, any time."

He just smiled and nodded politely, walking out of her office and back to the front desk to schedule his next appointment.

________  
Two weeks into the Partial program, Connor had a breakdown alone in his room. It was that point, the point where he found himself face-down on his bedroom floor, literally sobbing so loud it was beginning to hurt his throat. He rarely had this kind of breakdown. They were usually internalized and made him feel numb, this, however, was very very external, and it was like all the emotions his brain hadn't allowed him to feel came crashing in on him all at once. 

He eventually shuffled to the living room where his mother was watching TV and laid his head in her lap, still shaking slightly from his violent crying. 

"Oh my kid," she looked down at him with sad crinkles around her eyes and a slight frown. "What's going on, sweetheart?" 

He nearly cried again at her concern. Sometimes he forgot she did actually love him and that his brain was wrong most of the time. 

Connor sniffled and took three short breaths before speaking. "I think-" he paused when his voice cracked, this was going to be much harder than he anticipated. 

He started again, "I think I might need to go, um, inpatient." His voice became gradually lower as the sentence went on.

His mom stroked his hair and nodded. "Are you sure?"

 _Oh god_. Connor squeezed his eyes shut and stared at the swirling colors behind his eyelids. 

"No," he said simply, and after waiting a few seconds continued, "but I don't really know what else to do at this point."

His mom nodded again. "It's up to you. I know its scary, but-" her voice seemed to get caught in her throat, "god, you have no idea how much you mean to us. If this is what it takes to keep you here then I think we should try it."

Connor knew he should reply, should say _something_ , but the blankness that always consumed him after this kind of breakdown was creeping its way through his brain, dampening any emotion he should be having. So he just nodded instead. 

They sat there for a while longer, his mom stroking his long hair softly while watching reruns of _Mr. Belvedere_ , before Connor spoke up again. 

"Dr. Kacey said that if I felt like I needed to go to inpatient that he could do a direct admittance instead of us having to deal with the ER." Dr. Kacey was his psychiatrist at the Partial program.

"Are you... safe enough to wait until tomorrow when you see him next? Do we need to take your meds out of your room?"

Connor rolled his eyes. He hated that question. He knew it was a perfectly normal and logical thing to be concerned about, but if she did take his pills away he wouldn't have his fallback plan. And yeah it was an unhealthy way to think, but the way his brain worked was to stay quiet and lie about all his problems _because no one cares about them anyway_ until he was essentially forced to talk about them. That was part of the reason it had taken this long to even begin to get proper treatment. 

"No, mom. I'll be fine." 

She looked down at him skeptically. "Don't act like I'm not allowed to worry about you."

"Yeah, I know. It just makes me feel like a child." 

"You are a child." (Okay, he played right into that one.) "You're still my baby and I want you to be happy and healthy and _safe._ "

Connor sat up and looked her in the eyes. "I promise mom. I can keep myself safe." 

Although he meant it, he still felt like a broken record, repeating himself over and over to satisfy the concerns of all the adults in his life. 

He had been asked that question more times than he could count: 'can you keep yourself safe?' And his answer was usually the same every time, regardless of what his actual feelings were. It was kind of difficult to discern when being suicidal was basically his default emotion. 

Like, yeah he would most likely not actually kill himself, it would make him feel too guilty, but at the same time, his mood swings were so rapid and out of control that those feelings could change literally any second. 

They would always ask him if he 'had a plan' to kill himself and his answer was always no to that as well. And this time it was always true- he never planned it out, it was always just an impulsive decision. 

That was _kind of_ part of the problem. 

All his crying was suddenly catching up to him and he could feel the exhaustion and tension headache start to invade his body. He rubbed his already swollen eyes and sighed deeply. He needed to go to bed. It was barely 10:30 but he was ready for the day to just be over already. 

"I'm gonna go to bed." he said to regain his mom's attention, "I love you." 

She pulled Connor into a tight hug and answered, "I love you too. Always remember that." 

All he could do was nod into her shoulder because he was afraid he may start crying again. 

________  
One Klonopin, Seroquel, and Ambien later, he laid in bed adequately drugged up and waiting for sleep to come. When he was first prescribed Ambien, he had thought all the bizarre stories people told were exaggerations, but now that he had been taking it for his insomnia for over half a year he understood that those experiences were entirely possible. He himself had never had anything too wild, it was usually just stuff like you'd get from a drunk text. 

He once wrote a two page letter to an internet celebrity and woke up the next morning with only a vague recollection of writing it. It was still unsent, thank goodness. He'd also made quite a few impulsive purchases from Amazon or Etsy, but he usually found them useful in the end. One time time he found the Instagram page of a Korean singer he liked, went through and liked at least fifty of her pictures, then felt bad because he didn't want her to feel like he was being creepy, so he sent a message apologizing. Rediscovering that one was embarrassing. 

His favorite discovery was a video he took of himself laying in bed, slurring about how big his forehead was. "Brendan Urie better watch out." That had made him giggle for hours.

Sometimes he would find things that were a little more ominous, like the time he opened the notes on his phone to find a completely empty page with only the words "they're outside." He still doesn't know what it was supposed to mean. 

Tonight though, his brain was insisting that he needed to talk to Evan. He needed to make sure Evan knew how important he was. Evan Evan Evan. 

- _hey my dude, i just wanted to tell you that i appreciate you and thank you for putting up with me and all my bullshit_

Connor locked his phone and closed his eyes, but barely a minute later it buzzed under his hand.

_what? im not 'putting up with you' i WANT to be friends with you._

Another message popped up just as Conner finished reading the first.

_are you okay?_

- _yeah, im good, i just wanted you to know that i love you and you're important to me and i probably wouldn't be here if i didn't meet you._

He sent a second message as an afterthought.

- _you deserve to be told that you're important and i wanted to tell you just in case no one else has recently_

The little bubble that indicated Evan was typing popped up and Connor watched the dots wiggle until they transformed into the message.

 _i love you too_

Sleep was finally pulling him under and he barely saw the yellow heart emoji appear before he drifted off completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -thanks for sticking around <3
> 
> (also those stories i told about being on sleeping meds were all 100% true bc im the one that did them rip)


	10. less than zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -this ones got a lot of ED theme//////
> 
> -there’s also pretty blatant Suicide talk and stuff////:.
> 
> -and there’s messy family arguing///

Another day, another fight. Connor was so sick of the arguments and blame games, someone was always pointing a finger at someone else. And when there was no one to point the finger at, Connor became the scapegoat. 

No milk? Connor probably finished it. Late for work? Connor must have done something to cause the delay. Zoe backtalks? She was probably upset by Connor. 

His parents' problems always became his problems. Their fighting almost always had something to with Connor, and were therefore 'his fault.' 

"We wouldn't be under so much stress if you'd just go to class." 

"We wouldn't have to argue so much if you'd stop being so moody." 

"We're a little tight for money right now because _your_ doctor bills are piling up."

"Do you have any idea how your actions make us look? Do you want Zoe to suffer the consequences of what _you_ do?"

And maybe it wasn't fair. Because he definitely was a major cause of stress in their lives, but it wasn't like he was _trying_ to be. 

When you have a kid you sign up for _all_ the challenges it presents. You don't get to pick and choose what your child will struggle with. You don't get to decide halfway through that raising the kid isn't 'what you signed up for.' 

And not to mention, he and Zoe both were planned children. 

Connor's head was a whirling mess. It felt like walking through a hurricane when he made for the front door. 

He fumed all the way to the end of their block and began running. He hadn't done his running yet today anyway. 

His body shook with the effort it took to lift each leg to stumble forward. The ankle weights strapped to his legs probably weren't helping. 

Anything to burn more calories right? 

He wasn't sure how long he'd been running for, but he found himself at the local middle school which was more or less ten minutes driving time. 

It was situated at the top of a hill, perfect for sledding, and kids around the area used it every winter just for that. 

A memory of Connor and Zoe riding in tandem down the snowy hill into the open arms of their father crept up. He heard echoes of laughter float sadly through his memory and he couldn't recall a time recently where he had felt that content. 

Right now, it was a far cry from the frosty winter in his memory, it was the middle of July and the weather was a sweltering 103 degrees. The number skyrocketed to 112 when accounting for heat index. 

He made his way around to one side of the school where a set of long stairs paved a walkway from the top of the hill to the bottom. He remembered his sports coaches punishing the team with running sets of stairs that he now ran voluntarily. 

Up, then down. One. 

Up, down. Two. 

Up, down. Three. 

Up, three and a half, he paused at the top, coughing and retching and clinging to the railing for support when black spots pulsed their way into his vision. 

He had to keep going, he always did at least ten sets. Why was he having so much trouble right now? 

_you haven't eaten in thirty-two hours, dumbass._

No, he's run having gone longer than that before, what was his problem? 

He forced himself to run back down the steps. Four. 

Up, two at a time, down, high knees. Five. 

Halfway there, can't stop now. 

Up, some other stranger joined the 'bad decision' club of running in literal hell weather at the bottom of the stairs. He had water and appropriate clothing though, unlike Connor's sweatpants and long-sleeved t-shirt. (It was always cold inside the house and he didn't think about changing before his impromptu emotional run.) 

Down- he passed the guy and gave a polite nod when they made awkward eye contact. Six. 

Seven, he paused again at the bottom, hands on his knees and coughing violently from the bottom of his stomach as he struggled to breathe in the heavy air. 

_stand up and run, don't embarrass yourself in front of this guy_

Up, two at a time, then high knees down. Eight. 

He was so close. 

But why stop at 10? Why not just go to 15? He would already be two-thirds of the way there. 

His body was already past the point of exhaustion. At this point he was running on pure determination and self hatred. 

Up, two at a time- then something went wrong. 

Connor felt the physical exertion catch up with him and the weight of his own limbs forced his body to collapse in on itself. His vision was completely black and the impact of the concrete was softened by the numbness in his skin. 

His head hit the railing on the way down, and he knew he would probably lose consciousness very soon. 

All he could think about was how embarrassing it was to faint in front of a stranger. He'd probably tell the story to his friends, how this weak, unfit kid couldn't handle a bit of exercise. 

___________

Connor blinked his eyes open and found himself staring into the face of the concerned stranger. 

He appeared to be trying to shield Connor's face from the sun. The guy was even fanning his face to try and cool him down. The effort was nice, but all it really did was push the warm air around. 

"Hey man, are you okay?" 

Connor mustered up a nod. "I forgot water but I thought I'd be alright."

"Oh yeah, I've done that too. Didn't make that mistake again."

Connor laughed lightly and sat up, the other guy leaning back a respectable distance to give him space now that he was conscious. 

"Sorry about interrupting your run." 

Connor began to stand slowly and was embarrassed all over again when his legs didn't support him and he stumbled back into the railing. 

"Whoa, hey. It's no big deal, let me help you down, yeah? I have some water down at the bottom."

"I don't- You don't have to like, help. You need water too." He said lamely. To be honest he just wanted the interaction to be over. He hadn’t taken his anxiety meds today and it was really starting to creep up inside the longer the conversation went on. 

He didn't want to be an inconvenience and he definitely didn't want to prolong this any more. 

Why couldn't he have just been alone?

"I think you need it more than I do right now." The guy moved closer and nodded to indicate he was going to help Connor down the stairs. 

When there was no protest he pulled Connor's arm around his shoulder and braced his other hand against his hip. 

It felt as though the guy's hand did a double take on his arm, landing and then moving slightly as if to check it was real. 

Connor felt his lungs freeze in panic for a moment and he had to remind himself to breathe. 

Could the guy feel his bones? Or was he thinking how big his arms were? His perception of himself was inconsistent if not totally inaccurate. 

"Thank you, by the way, for checking on me." Connor added uncomfortably, attempting to distract the guy from whatever his thoughts were about Connor’s body. 

"I mean, yeah, of course. What kind of asshole would I be if I didn't?"

They reached the bottom of the stairs and the guy helped him sit down in the grass before handing him the water bottle sitting nearby. 

Connor hummed contemplatively and said, "I suppose so. It's like, if I saw this happen I'd totally help out, but being the one... on this end, I just feel like an inconvenience."

Where did that come from? 

_Way to overshare Connor_

“Not at all,” The guy laughed a little and shook his head, "hey, what's your name? I never asked." 

"Um, Connor?” _Why did that sound like a question?_

“Well, Connor, I’m Ryan, and you’re totally not an inconvenience.” 

“Thank you again.” Connor offered, then after some hesitation asked, “why are you out here running in this god awful weather anyway?”

Ryan eyed him for a fraction of a second and remarked, “I could ask you the same thing,” and then quieter, almost a mumble, “but I think I already know the answer.” 

Connor elected to ignore the statement and the way his stomach dropped in reaction to it. 

Ryan sighed, “anyway, forgot to renew my gym membership and I’m a creature of habit, so I have to exercise every day or it will bug me the whole day.” 

_a gym membership!_

That was an idea Connor never considered before, which was a bit of a shock because of how much of an obsession his exercise was. 

“How much does a gym membership cost?” He asked before he could stop himself. He sounded a bit like an excited child. 

“‘Bout $10-20 depending on what level you get. I just get the basic one for ten bucks because I don’t care about all the extra shit.” 

Ryan hesitated before adding, “I don’t think you really need to go to the gym though.” 

Connor’s mood did a 180 again and he became defensive and irritable. He didn’t want to be rude to this guy though, he had good intentions and had gone out of his way to help Connor recover. 

He pushed some stray hairs that had fallen from his bun behind his ear and set the water bottle down in the grass before taking a deep breath. 

“Look, I know you’re just trying to help. And I appreciate what you’ve done for me, I really do. But I think it’s time for me to head home so I can rest... properly.” 

Connor was purposefully vague and avoided acknowledging most of what Ryan was implying because he didn’t want to blow up on this kind stranger and look like an asshole. 

Ryan pursed his lips for a moment, presumably deciding whether or not to keep pushing, but apparently deciding to just let it go, he offered, “You need to borrow my cell to have someone pick you up? Or do you have yours with you?” 

Connor stood up slowly _don’t pass out again don’t pass out again_ and waited for the blackness to fade back into the colors of his surroundings. 

“Nah, I don’t live very far away, maybe a couple minutes walking.” He lied smoothly. “And thank you again for being so nice. I’m sorry I interrupted your run.” 

The guy’s face was carefully blank, like he was holding something back, but he smiled politely anyway. 

“Like I said man, it’s no big deal.” He then frowned, making meaningful eye contact. “But please, be careful, yeah?” 

Connor smiled sweetly in return. “Yeah, of course. You too, in this heat.” 

Ryan shook his head, “uh huh. See you around then, I guess.” 

He gave a small wave before beginning his jog back up the stairs. Connor could still see him shake his head slightly in disbelief? Concern? Disappointment? 

Whatever. He could think what he wanted, it was time to take the long way home to make up for all those missed sets. 

___________

The second he opened the front door, the yelling started again. 

Wonderful. 

“Where the hell have you been?” That was Zoe. 

“Where’s it look like I’ve been?” He snapped. 

Really though, sweat stains on his shirt, a glossy sheen over his face, and his already curly hair falling out of his ineffective bun and sticking out in springs of every direction. It shouldn’t have been that hard to guess. 

“Don’t you ever leave this house like that again. Do you understand?” That was his mom. She was more worried than angry. Well, she was angry, but that was really just the manifestation of her worry. 

Connor just ignored her because he couldn’t make that promise. “I’ll take my phone next time.” 

“That’s not the point, Connor. You disrespected us by walking out in the middle of a conversation.” His dad chimed in. 

Connor clenched his teeth. He did not want to get into another argument. Especially with his dad. 

He was from a different time, and in his time, being mentally ill was a weakness that needed to be eradicated. He thought Connor should just be able to suck it up and get over it. 

He bit his tongue and decided not to answer at all. 

“I’m going to my room.” He finally said after a long silent pause where his dad glared at him and his mom looked on disappointedly, and Zoe just observed the scene as a bystander. She may as well have had a bucket of popcorn and 3D glasses for the way she was watching everything unfold. 

“No you are not.” His dad ordered. 

Connor spun on his heel. “Yeah? And why not?” 

“We have to discuss your behavior. It’s getting out of control, Connor.” He said sternly. “And until you reconcile and apologize to us and for putting your mother under so much stress, you aren’t going anywhere.” 

Connor’s face transformed into complete disbelief. “I- me- you want _me_ to apologize to _you_?” 

“Don’t disrespect your father!” 

“I can’t disrespect someone I don’t have any respect for, and I can’t respect someone who treats me like shit!” 

“Watch your attitude.” He growled. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about!” 

“Watch my-ha!“ Connor was again in disbelief, “fuck you!” 

He turned his back on the scene again to walk up the stairs and lock himself in his room. This environment was too toxic. His parents weren’t backing down, but they also weren’t even giving Connor a chance to speak. 

He imagined the look of outrage on his father’s face and the offended look on his mother’s. Too fucking bad. 

Connor’s shirt was suddenly yanked from behind, the collar digging into his windpipe for a few seconds before it was released and he was being spun around to face his father. It took him by surprise and his brain seemed to slow down. 

Was it possible to be angry but dissociate t the same time? His mind wondered. 

He was still seething and bordering on hatred but at the same time couldn’t really hear what was being said or feel the tough grip his father had on his forearms. It felt more like macrame friendship bracelets laying softly against his skin and the words he could understand, but only individually, stringing them together into sentences that made sense was proving to be difficult. 

“Are you even listening to me? Don’t ignore me!” 

Connor’s eyes were unfocused, looking somewhere past his Dad’s shoulders. He thought he saw a vague look of concern in Zoe’s face but he couldn’t be entirely sure, he had learned to not trust his brain in this state, or at least take everything with a grain of salt. 

“What time is it?” Connor asked, still not blinking or really even moving his eyes around. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Zoe’s voice says. 

“He might be having a panic attack, Larry, let him go.” His mom defended. 

“He’s probably just faking it so he can run away from this conversation just like he runs away from everything else.” Nonetheless, his dad releases his arms and opts to glare at Connor with his arms crossed. 

Connor kept his hands where they were despite being let go, and finally managed to look around. “Where am I? I’m at home right? Is this real?” 

His dad huffed in anger and made a shooting motion with one of his hands. “Just- fucking go to your room. It is nearly midnight.” 

“Midnight.” Connor repeated softly, then hummed quietly as he walked up the stairs. Right before closing his door he called back down to the living room, “Good night, I love you guys!” 

The door clicked shut and Connor stood still, numb. He hated the void, where his brain gave him ideas but his body said ‘fuck off.’ 

He walked mechanically to his bed and laid down to try and do some grounding techniques. 

Once he felt more likes real person his mind wandered some, down a path he ~~didn’t want to~~ couldn’t go down. 

He’d been being dumb and not taking his medication recently, and he knows what happens when he stops them. 

His mind thinks to the orange prescription bottles left abandoned in the bag he took with him the night he and Evan got chased through the orchard. 

He does the calculations of how much of each prescription he has and how much alcohol he’s stolen from his parents little by little and determines it’s probably enough. 

Connor grabs the bag with all the pills and adds in the partially empty bottles of vodka and gin. He opens his window, and as an afterthought grabs a notebook and pen before climbing out the window and scooting down the awning to jump off and go somewhere more... private. 

_______

Drinking straight liquor was fucking awful, but Connor wanted to get fucked up as soon as possible. 

He started with his venlafaxine, downing the whole bottle with a few gulps of gin. That was what, roughly thirty 150mg pills. 4500mg give or take. He didn’t count them exactly. 

He was walking to a local park that had all the standard play equipment, but off to one side, it had a neat little grove of trees arranged in an approximate circle with patches of flowers growing about the area. They were kept healthy by the community’s unspoken decision to take care of them. 

Connor paused on the rickety wooden bridge that crossed over a small creek. Not tall enough. He just enjoyed the view, and took the opportunity to down his bottle of lamotrigine and risperidone with more of the gin. About 25 150mg tabs of lamotrigine, and 30 1mg tabs of risperidone. 

Connor finished the gin and set the bottle carefully on the bridge while he watched the water trickle slowly in the moonlight. 

When he started to feel the wooziness come on he picked up the bottle and exchanged it for the vodka, continuing towards the park. He could see it in the distance now, and he decided to wait until he got there to finish the job. He wanted to be conscious enough to write his letter. 

There were only a handful of people he really truly cared about so hopefully it wouldn’t take too long and he could just get on with it. 

By the time he found his favorite spot, up against a fat tree trunk and facing about three different kinds of flowers, he felt blank. Which wasn’t necessarily a new feeling, but it felt just a little different. Like it was more hallow than blank. 

Connor pulled out his notebook and flipped to a clean page, poised his pen, and froze. 

Something. Was wrong, something was wrong? 

For the first time since he’d realized he was ill, he actually had a legitimate doubt. It left him ‘speechless’, he couldn’t write a single word. 

Doubtful and speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -if you’ve read this whole thing then holy smokes I love you, this story is v close to 1000 hits which, at least for me, is kind of a big deal and I wanna thank y’all again <3


	11. a dangerous vine to find yourself intertwined with

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor lives! And his parents do care!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -surprisingly this was harder for me to write than I thought it would be, I was in a bit of a dark place when I wrote the last one
> 
> -but here it is, not edited (yet), everyone safe and sound for your enjoyment
> 
> -a quick thank you to every single reader I hope you are all safe and happy <3

A buzz from Evan's bedside table drew his attention from the book he was reading to the new text that had popped up. He thought it might be Connor telling him to get ready for another one of their 'adventures', but his smile quickly faded when he scanned the message on his lock screen. The first thing that tipped him off was that the text was from Zoe, things between them were a little awkward since he had admitted his feelings for her their sophomore year; she rarely texted him.

- _is connor with you?_

Evan felt his stomach clench. He answered her immediately.

_no, he's not. what's going on?_

_-i dont really know, i went to check on him after he had an argument with our parents but he wasn't in his room and the window was open_

_-i think he might have done something stupid_

God, Connor, what did you do this time? Please be safe.

_do you have any idea where he would have gone?_

_-other than to your place? no, not really._

Evan was about to reply again when a second message arrived.

- _maybe the park with the creek right by it? i think he goes there sometimes when he's stressed_

_you mean esther harmony park?_

_-yeah, im headed there now_

_ok, i'll meet you there_

Evan had never left his house faster than he did in that moment. After collecting a few items like some blankets and the first aid kit from his bathroom, he was out the door and on the road in seconds.  
If Zoe's gut was right, he just hoped they got there in time.

_____________

Evan’s hands gripped the steering wheel, white knuckled and just slightly sweaty. He pulled into the parking lot next to the baseball diamond, and saw that Zoe’s car was already there. 

He reached into his passenger seat and grabbed a blanket and the first aid kit, although he wasn’t sure how much help they would be. 

He sprinted past the baseball field and the playground, right to where he saw a shadowy lump that he assumed was Connor and Zoe. 

“Zoe?” 

“Over here! He’s alive and breathing but he’s not breathing right.” Evan finally reached them and knelt down. “I’ve already called 911.” 

Evan threw down the items he was carrying and fished out his own phone, “I’m gonna call poison control.”

“Good idea,” Zoe nodded. 

The information poison control gave him wasn’t much more than he already knew from the basic high school health classes. 

Call 911, put the person in the recovery position, never make them throw up, never put them in the shower, never force them to eat anything, and wait for the ambulance to show up. 

He was already helping Zoe turn Connor on his side and keeping his windpipe in a neutral position so his breathing would continue. They were only supposed to start CPR if he stopped breathing. 

They heard sirens in the distance and Evan felt a slight bit of relief that a human life would be out of his hands and he could let the professionals with high tech equipment do their job. 

Connor coughed suddenly, and tried to mumble something. 

Evan’s heart leapt into his throat and he leaned close, lightly tapping his cheeks to try and keep him conscious. 

“Come on.” Connor’s eyes flickered. “Come on stay with me.” 

His eyes closed again but he let out another incoherent mumble. 

“Connor.” Evan said desperately.

He glanced up to see Zoe squatting nearby, biting nervously on her nails and crying silently as she watched. 

“Connor, what are you saying?” 

The sirens were close now, and he felt a sense of urgency to figure out what he was trying to say. 

“Evan.” It was still garbled but there was no mistaking his name. 

“What is it, Connor?” 

“I-“ a weak cough, “I’m sorry.” 

The words came out slowly but carefully, in a whisper, it was clear he was conscious enough to want that message to get across. 

Evan saw a tear leak from Connor’s right eye and onto the blanket they had put him on. That was Evan’s breaking point, that was the moment he finally let his emotions have a place amongst the panic. 

“Connor, I understand, just know that I love you. You are loved. Zoe is here, and she’s so worried about you. She called me to try and make sure you were safe. The ambulance is almost here, just, please Connor. Hang on.” He was choking back tears. 

“Love,” Connor managed, “you.” 

“I know, I know you do. Which is why you need to hang on.” 

“Zoe. I-“ he seemed to be losing consciousness again. 

More light taps on his cheeks made his eyes flicker. 

“I love you.” He curled up in what was presumably pain. 

Connor suddenly remembered what poison control had told him to do if he became conscious. 

“Oh, Connor can you tell me what you took?” 

“Mmmmm,” he groaned loudly, “all- of- it.” 

His hand pointed weakly to bag tossed nearby. 

The ambulance was turning the corner and Zoe ran towards the street to flag them down. 

Evan picked up the bag and looked inside, finding two glass bottles of liquor and about five orange prescription bottles. Feeling his heart sink he gave the bag to Zoe as Connor was loaded onto a stretcher and taken to the ambulance. 

“You ride with him Zoe. Text me the hospital when you get there okay?” 

She nodded, still crying, but climbing into the back of the ambulance.

“Wait! Should I call your parents? And tell them what’s going on?” 

One door slammed closed, and heard Zoe shout a quick “yes!” before the final door closed and the ambulance was on its way to the hospital. 

Evan sat down on the blanket still lying in the grass, taking a moment to just let the situation run through its emotions while he waited to calm down. 

He curled his knees to his chest and wrapped them in a hug, sobbing quietly into them. 

He took deep breaths and counted, rationalizing the situation. 

Connor was awake when he was loaded into the ambulance, they have the information they need to properly treat him. He’s going to be okay. 

Everything will be okay.  
_______________

Evan figured simply driving to the Murphy’s was his best bet, for some reason a phone call seemed too impersonal, or like it made it less important somehow. 

Knocking on the Murphy’s door was one of the hardest things Evan ever had to do.

Larry answered. 

“Oh, hello Evan. What brings you here so late?” 

It was nearly 2am. He hoped he’d be able to get it out without crying or messing up too badly. 

“Um, is Mrs. Murphy here too? It’s- um, kind of important.” 

He was shaking badly. Not just from anxiety of talking to Connor’s parents (who didn’t know about them aside from their friendship), but from worry over how Connor was doing. 

Larry looked slightly confused for a moment before nodding and gesturing him inside. “Yes, yes, come in.” 

Once he had both Larry and Cynthia on the couch and himself positioned on an adjacent armchair, he took a shaky breath and tried to begin speaking. 

“I-“ He exhaled and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Another breath. 

“Okay. I’m not really sure how to even start or go about telling you this, but- uh- Connor is in the hospital, because he- um- he tried to- he overdosed on his medication. And Zoe and me- we found him in the park, and called an ambulance. So, um, Zoe went with him to the hospital.” When there was silence he added, “and I came here to tell you.” 

Evan looked up finally to see the faces of the Murphy’s. Cynthia had a hand over her mouth and was crying slightly, still clearly in shock. Larry had his shaking head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Oh, son. Connor, what have you done?” He was muttering quietly. 

Cynthia finally let out a loud sob and leaned onto Larry’s shoulder. He immediately moved a hand to hug and cradle her while taking a moment to sniffle. 

Evan felt like an intruder on this moment and awkwardly went to check his phone for any texts from Zoe. 

- _@ rose gardens medical center on 75th & valley_

- _they say he’s gonna be fine_

- _well, physically_

Evan had a feeling there would be a lot to work out within the family, especially between Larry and Connor. From the scene before him, it was obvious that Larry cared very, very much about his son, but had some issues with his lifestyle and some misplaced anger and even a little bit of manipulation- which may or may not even be intentional. 

Evan cleared his throat after a moment longer of the two Murphy’s embrace. 

“I have the uh, hospital that he’s at. If you want to go see him. Zoe said he’s going to be okay.” 

He saw Cynthia physically deflate with relief at the news her son would be fine. Larry looked relieved as well, but still under significant stress. 

“Yeah, yes, please, what hospital is he at?” 

“Rose Gardens Medical Center.” 

Larry nodded. “I know where that’s at. Evan you’re welcome to come visit him too. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable and out of the loop.” 

Evan nodded, “thank you. I’ll- I can drive my car though so you two can have, um, privacy?” 

“That’s fine, we’ll meet you there then.” Larry was still the only one speaking, as Cynthia was too torn up to speak. 

Just before Evan walked out the door- “and Evan. Thank you, for saving our son.” 

“I didn’t-“ he stuttered. 

“You’re the only reason he’s held on this long. Thank you. Thank you so much Evan.” 

“I- you’re welcome, it was really no problem-“ he cycled through appropriate responses to being thanked and stuttered through a few of them before quickly saying, “well I’ll see you there, bye.” And closing the door. 

Once in the safety of his car he let the hyperventilation take over for a few breaths before calming himself down again so it didn’t get out of hand. 

Now it was time for the drive to the hospital. He had been in a hospital emergency setting far too often than was healthy. 

He remembered the time he and Connor first met, when Evan had been at his lowest moment, and Connor was there for him. It was his turn to be there for Connor, there was no way he would abandon him, alone, in the care of hospital staff. 

No, he was not going to let him feel alone anymore.


	12. and if you need a friend, I’ll help you stitch up your wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> X-rays and anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -god I know it’s been so long and I am legitimately sorry for that but I promise even if it does take me a while I will eventually update unless stated otherwise ok? bc I love this story and everyone who reads it and comments and gives kudos and all that I really appreciate the support
> 
> -also I’m sorry for making you wait this long and then coming back with a boring chapter that’s not even 2,000 words
> 
> -as for what I’ve been doing this whole time, well
> 
> -in dec/Jan I was doing ECT
> 
> -feb-early March I was back in a partial hospitalization program
> 
> -then after admitting to the group and then my psychiatrist in that program abt my ED they urged me to contact a specialized clinic for EDs and sort of forced me to tell my parents too so then
> 
> -I went to the literal only ED clinic in Omaha and maybe even Nebraska bc our mental health programs suck here, and have been in their day program since March. Unfortunately yeah, I’m still going every day though they did decrease my hours. 
> 
> -I also graduated in may, finally, two years after I was supposed to but goddamn I did it. 
> 
> -oh also this part takes place directly after part 5 I think. Whenever that last hospital chapter was!
> 
> -anyway, I just want to say again thank you so so much for reading and I’m sorry it took so long, much love <3

Thinking about your breakdown after you’ve calmed down is always embarrassing. Connor sat leaning against the tree for a few minutes, finally calming down, and the realization of what he had just done hit him like a bucket of bricks in the face. 

He stood up to return to the hospital, feeling bad for leaving Evan alone when he knew how anxious he was about the situation. 

The walk back was short, and he couldn’t help but let his thoughts circle on what he’d just done. 

_I literally just flung myself around the forest like some angsty middle schooler._

_-you also talked to the trees. Out loud._

_God, I did do that, didn’t I?_

Not to mention, it wasn’t even really a forest, it just a small grove of trees some ways away behind the hospital, probably still visible from the hospital windows. 

- _people were probably watching you act like a crazy person and laughing at how ridiculous you looked_

Sometimes, he was able to recognize his intrusive thoughts and dismiss them like that one annoying kid in the back of the classroom every class had, the one who always had some smartsass thing to say to get the class off topic. 

_calm down, realistically, no one was probably paying attention to you. It’s okay._

When he walked back in through the automatic sliding doors, he walked straight up to the guy behind the desk. 

“Hi, excuse me,” he started, Hank looked up from his computer and narrowed his eyes at Connor, but before he could say anything Connor continued. 

“I just wanted to apologize for my comment earlier, I was upset and I took it out on you. It was very rude and I’m sorry.” 

Now that he was in a better state of mind, he felt guilty about making fun of this guy being bald. He still thought the guy was kind an asshole because he essentially did the same thing to Connor, but that didn’t make it okay for him to be an asshole back. 

No matter how much he wanted to be. 

_just be the bigger person_

The guy’s mouth opened slightly, looking a little bit like a fish, before closing it and then speaking. 

“Wow.” He said in disbelief. Connor was about _this_ close to being annoyed again, but the guy shook his head and started talking again. 

“Know what? I’m sorry too. I’ve been having a bad day and taking it out on people all day. Which, excuse my unprofessionalism, is really shitty of me. Thank you for making me realize that.” 

Connor nodded blankly. He was half taken aback and half proud that he actually had some kind of impact on this guy. 

Suddenly remembering why he was actually here, he asked for Evan, hoping the guy would be a little more helpful now. 

“Yeah, so, can you help me out? I need to know where Evan Hansen went. The other kid I was with earlier.” 

He turned back to his computer and typed something in, clicking a few times before facing Connor and saying, “looks like he’s in exam room 27, which will be straight back through those doors, a left, and then about four doors down that hallway.” 

“Perfect. Thank you!” Connor said, and quickly walked the path that Hank had described. 

The doors were numbered with big, dark blue decals, so finding the giant ‘27’ was fairly easy. 

It was slightly ajar, but Connor knocked a little as he pushed the door open slowly. 

There sat Evan, still wrapped up in Connor’s jacket, looking stressed beyond belief. His expression softened slightly when the recognition passed through. 

“Hey.” 

- _hey. Really?_

“Hey.” 

All of the confidence Connor had earlier in the evening was suddenly waning, giving way to that familiar twisting just below his chest cavity that dropped slowly to settle uncomfortably between his hips, like it was tugging his navel back towards his spine. 

Evan spoke up again before he could. 

“Are you- feeling any better?” 

Connor actually laughed out loud.

_god, he’s been sitting for three hours unmedicated with a broken arm and he’s asking me if I’m ok_

“Yeah, I’m alright. Even though things are better for me they can still just get to be... too much. I guess.” He shrugged and sat on one of the chairs next to the exam table. These were slightly less shitty than the ones in the waiting room. “But enough about me, I should be asking about _you_. Have you met with the doctor yet? How’s your pain?”

Evan hummed and leaned on his non-injured hand. He still looked stressed, yes, but Connor didn’t realize until Evan started speaking but the anxiety he displayed before seemed to be eased somewhat.

“Well, I haven’t seen the doctor, that’s what I’m waiting for now. The nurse was like, beside herself, all pissed I wasn’t taken back sooner as soon as she saw my arm. Left to get the doctor and came back with a morphine shot.” 

That explains it. 

“So you’re not in as much pain then?” 

“I can barely feel it dude. It’s also making me really tired though.” As if to prove his point, his eyes closed so that he was looking through narrow slits under his eyelashes, head leaned back in exhaustion. 

A knock on the door ended the conversation as the doctor pushed it open and closed it behind him. 

“Hello, Evan Hansen?” A nod from Evan. “I’m Dr. Brahm. So the nurse tells me you’ve got a closed fracture in your left arm?” 

“I guess so.” Evan sucked a cheek in started to chew on it. 

“Well, we’ll have to do an X-ray to determine if it’s displaced or comminuted. Basically if it needs resetting or surgery. I’ve already ordered one so the nurse should be back shortly to bring you back for that X-ray.” He gave an encouraging smile and left the room. 

“Fuuuuuck.” 

Connor’s surprise elicited another small laugh. 

“You’re certainly becoming a little loose lipped.” 

“Shut up. I just- what if I have to have _surgery_?” He shook his head, looking worried. The next thing was said under his breath, but in the small room Connor was able to hear every word. 

“So fucking stupid. Why did you think- god, always an inconvenience.” 

Connor noticed Evan had a powerful frown on his face, the muscles tense and intentional. His gaze was intensely focused on his hand where, Connor noted, it was grasping his crochet hook and tracing patterns roughly on his jeans. 

“Evan?” He tried quietly. 

Evan looked up and schooled his face to look something like a neutral expression but it still looked quite sour. 

“Don’t worry about it. I- it’s nothing. Here’s your hook back.” He sharply held out the hook and frowned. 

Conner mirrored his expression, concerned. 

_you really did get attached quick_

He reached out and carefully took the hook as it seemed Evan would not be lowering his arm until he did so. 

“Evan, that’s not- you’re not an inconvenience. I told you that.” 

He spoke softly. If Evan’s mind was in the spiral Connor thought it was, he knew words would matter very little. Anxiety was a bitch and it was next to impossible to convince yourself of something that your brain had spent years conditioning you to believe the opposite. 

It must have been some combination of factors- tiredness, morphine, stress- that led Evan to say what he did next because Connor couldn’t find it in himself to believe that he was actually capable of intentionally hurting someone’s feelings. 

“God, not you Connor. Not everything is about you, you know? You aren’t the only person that exists in my life, not to mention I barely met you like, three hours ago so just- butt out.”

Connor just blinked- face blank. 

Because- okay, ouch. 

_-what’d I tell you? selfish._

_I was just trying to help._

_-yeah, well look where that got you. you knew from the beginning he wouldn’t want to actually be your friend. you don’t know how to talk about anything that’s not about you you you_

_I was- I didn’t have any other context!_

_-you you you you you you youyouyouyouyouyouyou always you you you just you all the time you-_

The nurse came back into the room in that moment to collect Evan for the X-ray. She told them it wouldn’t take more than a half an hour. 

That left Connor a lovely thirty minutes to process what had just happened and most likely spiral into an anxiety fueled pit of self hatred. 

-  
When the door opened again Connor opened his eyes to see Evan enter with a guilty look on his face, followed by the doctor, who had a clipboard this time. 

“I’ve already discussed this part with Evan, but the fracture is displaced, but will not require surgery. I will have to reset the bone so an anesthesiologist will be joining us in here shortly to ask some questions in order to give you the right dosage of anesthesia.” 

Evan nodded and glanced toward Connor with his eyebrows pulled together in- worry? 

Connor just smiled the best he could and nodded. 

He wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

-  
Once the bone was reset, a cast put on, and discharge papers signed they returned to Connor’s car. 

Connor started it but checked his phone before putting it in gear. 

A text from his mom:

- _where are you_

Then one from Zoe:

- _dad’s gonna kick your ass if you come high again_

He locked it without replying and tossed it more aggressively than he intended into the cup holder. 

Evan spoke for the first time since waking up from anesthesia. He was a little confused at first so Connor assumed it would just take a minute before he would be able to get his bearings. And it seemed that now was that time. 

“I-“ he exhaled, “listen, I’m sorry. I was- upset. With myself. And I took it out on you. And it was a bit of a dick move. Well, that’s an understatement but- anyway. All you’ve done is help me and you’ve been so understanding. Like, weirdly understanding to someone you barely know but you still just tried to accommodate me and I guess I didn’t know what to do with that genuine, like, care I guess. You really don’t make everything about you.” He paused before adding, “pinky promise.” 

Connor put the car in gear and started out of the parking lot. 

“I get it. It’s- I understand. Stress makes people say stupid shit. I’m no stranger to being the one who’s an asshole. It’s okay. Like you said, we barely know each other, but I feel like that’s something you’d have never said under normal circumstances.” 

He glanced at Evan with a soft, genuine smile when he paused at the last stop sign before hitting the main road. 

“Also, I’ll need directions to your place.” 

“Oh my god I didn’t even ask if it was okay that you drove me home I could have called my mom and had her pick me up, if you want to I still-“

Connor laughed lightly and shook his head. 

“It’s fine, really. Just tell me where to go you dork.”


End file.
